This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  was  taken  out  on 
the  day  indicated  below: 


Lib.  10M-F.'35 


THE  AMERICAN  TROPICS. 


! 


| 

)  The  Companion  Library. 


!  Number  3. 

I 


PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY, 
Boston,  Mass. 


THE  COMPANION  LIBRARY 

Is  a  collection  of  stories,  travel-sketches  and  descriptive  articles,  complete, 
exact,  and  so  interesting  as  to  meet  the  need  of  all  who  want  "a  book 
for  the  leisure  hour."  It  is  made  up  from  the  works  of  some  of  the  best 
writers  for  The  Youth's  Companion. 

The  Library  comprises  the  following  volumes,  each  containing  sixty- 
four  pages,  illustrated  and  bound  uniform  with  this  book: 

No.  i.  Stories  of  Purpose:    Patriotism,  Bravery  and  Kindness. 
No.  2.  Glimpses  of  Europe:    Travel  and  Description. 

No.  3.  The  American  Tropics:    Mexico  to  the  Equator. 
No.  4.  Sketches  of  the  Orient:    Scenes  in  Asia. 
No.  5.  Old  Ocean:    Winds,  Currents  and  Perils. 
No.  6.  I/ife  in  the  Sea:    Fish  and  Fishing. 

No.  7.  Bits  of  Bird  Iyife:    Habits,  Nests  and  Eggs. 

No.  8.  Our  I/ittle  Neighbors:    Insects,  Small  Animals. 
No.  9.  At  Home  in  the  Forest :    Wild  Animals. 
No.  10.  In  Alaska:    Animals  and  Resources. 

No.  11.  Among  the  Rockies:   Scenery  and  Travel. 

No.  12.  In  the  Southwest:   Semi-Tropicai  Regions. 
No.  13.  On  the  Plains:    Pioneers  and  Ranchmen. 

No.  14.  The  Great  I^ake  Country:    A  Land  of  Progress. 
No.  15.  On  the  Gulf:    Attractive  Regions  of  Contrasts. 
No.  16.  Along  the  Atlantic :    New  York  to  Georgia. 
No.  17.  In  New  England :  The  Home  of  the  Puritans. 

No.  18.  Stories  of  Success :  Skill,  Courage,  Perseverance. 

Price  10  Cents  Each,  Post-paid. 


PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
201  Columbus  Avenue.  BOSTON,  MASS. 


THE  AMERICAN  TROPICS. 


The  Companion  Library. 

Number  Three. 


SELECTIONS 
From  The  Youth's  Companion. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 

3 

CARNIVAL  IN  LIMA  .... 

MARIA  LOUISE  WETMORE. 

9 

A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY  . 

.  THOMAS  L.  STEDMAN. 

13 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 

18 

AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN  FOREST 

.      A.  B.  BUCKLEY. 

23 

SOUTH  AMERICAN  GAMES  . 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 

28 

A  YOUNG  AND  GROWING  MOUNTAIN 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 

33 

IN  THE  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

38 

THE  BOYS  OF  MEXICO       .      .    '  • 

.     T.  S.  VANDYKE. 

46 

THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY  . 

H.  BUTTERWORTH. 

49 

HOUSEKEEPING  ON  A  DESERT  ISLAND 

LADY  BLAKE. 

54 

A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO  . 

-     JULIA  WARD  HOWE. 

60 

Copyright,  1894. 
PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY. 
Boston,  Mass. 


Scenes  in  Quito. 


An  odd  old  City  *  in  the  Andes. 


To  reach  Quito  from  the  sea  one  must  ride  several  days  on 
muleback.  The  highway  to  the  capital  is  not  yet  completed 
and  only  a  bridle-path  crosses  the  breast  of  Chimborazo  at  a 
height  of  fourteen  thousand  feet,  so  that  the  journey  is  one  of 
great  hardship  and  discomfort.  Freight  for  the  interior  of 
Ecuador  is  carried  upon  the  backs  of  mules  or  men,  who  travel 
twelve  or  fourteen  hours  a  day,  and  take  two  or  three  weeks 
for  the  journey. 

There  are  no  hotels,  but  only  filthy  lodging-houses,  in 
which  a  neat  and  nervous  traveller  would  be  very  uncomfort- 
able. There  was  no  telegraph  line  until  a  few  years  ago,  and 
it  was  useless  most  of  the  time  at  first,  for  the  people  cut  down 
the  poles  for  firewood,  and  stole  the  wire  to  repair  their 
harnesses  and  panniers  with. 

But  having  once  reached  the  capital  of  the  Incas,  one  finds 
himself  rewarded  for  his  hardship  and  exposure,  for  the 
scenery  is  grander  than  can  be  found  elsewhere,  and  the 
ancient  city  is  so  quaint  and  queer  that  it  seems  like  entering 
another  world. 

Quito  is  at  least  two  hundred  years  behind  the  times  in 
almost  every  feature  of  civilization.  There  are  no  news- 
papers, and  only  one  printing-office,  which  is  owned  and 
conducted  by  the  government  for  the  publication  of  official 
documents.  It  is  so  far  removed  from  the  rest  of  the  world 
that  the  inhabitants  seldom  leave  it,  and  people  from  the 
outside  do  not  often  go  there. 

The  city  is  without  a  decent  hotel,  although  there  are 
forty  or  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  strangers  who  want  to 
be  comfortable  are  compelled  to  stop  with  merchants,  officials, 
or  others  to  whom  they  have  letters  of  introduction. 

There  is  not  a  carriage  or  a  wagon  in  the  place,  and  only 
a  few  carts  of  the  most  primitive  pattern,  which  look  like  the 


4 


AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES. 


pictures  one  sees  in  the  illustrated  Bibles  of  those  used  in  the 
time  of  Moses. 

The  history  of  Quito  has  never  been  written,  but  the 
traditions  make  it  as  old  as  Jerusalem  or  Damascus.  The 
Incas  have  traditions  of  a  mighty  nation  called  the  Quitos, 
who  lived  there  before  their  fathers  came,  but  of  whom  the 
world  has  no  other  knowledge.  All  we  know  is  that  Pizarro 
found  a  magnificent  capital  of  a  mighty  empire,  extending 
three  thousand  miles,  and  as  thickly  settled  as  China  or  the 
interior  of  Europe,  with  beautiful  palaces  of  stone,  full  of  gohi 
and  silver  and  gems  ;  but  it  was  all  destroyed. 

The  walls  of  the  palace  of  Atahualpa,  the  last  of  the  Incas, 
whose  pathetic  story  Prescott  has  told  in  "The  Conquest  of 
Peru,"  now  enclose  a  prison,  and  a  gloomy  convent  stands 
upon  the  site  of  the  famous  Temple  of  the  Sun. 

Decay  and  dilapidation,  poverty  and  ignorance,  filth  and 
depravity  are  the  most  conspicuous  features  of  life  in  Quito, 
but  the  people  are  as  vain  and  proud  as  if  they  had  all  the 
good  things  of  the  world,  and  think  they  have  a  grander  city 
than  London  or  New  York.  They  know  no  better,  and 
perhaps  it  is  well  that  they  do  not.  The  only  portion  of  the 
population  who  seem  to  be  prosperous  consists  of  the  buzzards, 
the  scavengers  of  the  town,  and  as  all  the  filth  and  refuse 
from  the  houses  is  pitched  into  the  streets,  they  have  plenty 
to  do. 

The  men  stand  idly  around  the  street  corners,  wrapped  in 
their  ponchos,  for  it  is  cool  in  the  shade,  and  repulsive-looking 
beggars  reach  out  their  hands  for  alms  to  those  who  pass  by. 
The  women  are  seldom  seen  in  the  streets  except  on  feast-days 
or  early  in  the  morning  when  they  go  to  mass,  and  then  they 
keep  their  faces  so  covered  that  it  is  impossible  to  tell  one 
from  another. 

Soldiers  are  numerous,  usually  barefooted,  and  wearing 
uniforms  of  ordinary  white  cotton  sheeting.  Peons  half- 
naked,  and  children  entirely  so,  sleep  or  play  in  the  sun,  and 
Indian  women  clad  in  sombre  black  glide  to  and  fro  with 
their  mantas  drawn  over  their  heads,  or  sit  in  the  market- 


AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES. 


5 


place  seiiing  fruits  and  vegetables.  Peddlers  are  numerous, 
and  their  shrill  cries  afford  strangers  amusement , 

Water-carriers  are  always  to  be  seen  with  great  jars  of 
clay,  holding  half  a  barrel,  on  their  backs,  going  to  and  from 
the  fountain  in  the  plaza.  There  are  no  pipes  or  wells  to 
supply  the  houses,  and  all  the  water  used  by  the  families  has 
to  be  brought  by  the  servants,  or  purchased  from  the  public 
carriers  at  so  much  a  gallon. 

The  city  is  traversed  by  deep  ravines  that  are  arched  over 
with  heavy  masonry,  on  which  the  houses  rest.  All  the 
streets  are  narrow,  and  carriages  could  scarcely  pass  upon 
them  if  there  were  any.  The  sidewalks  are  in  proportion  to 
the  streets,  and  one  wonders  what  they  were  made  for,  as  two 
people  could  not  possibly  go  abreast  or  pass  each  other  upon 
them. 

It  is  even  difficult  for  one  man  to  keep  both  feet  upon  the 
sidewalk  without  rubbing  the  whitewash  off  the  walls  of  the 
houses,  and  the  inhabitants,  who  are  never  guilty  of  any 
unnecessary  exertion,  have  abandoned  the  effort,  and  walk  in 
the  road.  The  roofs  of  the  houses,  which  are  made  of  curved 
tiles,  like  sewer  pipes  cut  lengthwise,  reach  over  the  pave- 
ments two  or  three  feet,  and  water- spouts  project  still  farther. 

Few  of  the  houses  have  windows  looking  upon  the  street 
on  the  ground  floor,  but  are  lighted  from  the  inner  courts. 
The  second-story  windows  open  upon  balconies,  where  the 
ladies  spend  a  good  part  of  their  time  watching  the  passers-by 
and  chatting  with  their  neighbors. 

Many  of  the  houses,  particularly  those  in  the  centre  of  the 
city,  are  large,  and  were  once  furnished  with  luxury  and 
elegance,  but  are  no  longer  so.  The  walls  are  thick,  and  the 
rooms  are  large.  The  lower  floors  are  occupied  by  the 
servants  and  as  stables  for  the  horses  and  cattle,  while  the 
family  live  in  the  rooms  above. 

There  is  only  one  entrance,  through  which  everybody  and 
everything  that  enters  the  house  must  go,  and  at  night  it  is 
closed  with  great  oaken  doors  securely  barred.  There  is  no 
gas,  but  a  law  requires  each  householder  to  hang  a  lantern 


6 


AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES. 


over  his  door  with  a  lighted  candle  in  it.  When  the  candles 
burn  out  at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  the  streets  are  totally  dark. 
The  policemen  carry  lanterns  and  long  pikes,  and  when  the 
clocks  strike  the  hours  they  call  out,  "  Sereno  !  Sereno  !  " 
which  means  that  "all  is  well."  Therefore,  the  policemen 
are  called  "  Serenos." 

There  are  no  fixed  prices  for  anything  in  the  stores.  If 
you  ask  the  cost  of  an  article  the  merchant  will  reply,  "  How 
much  will  you  give  for  it  ?  "  If  you  name  a  sum  he  will  then 
ask  twice  or  three  times  as  much  as  you  offer,  and  "  negotio  " 
with  you.  The  women  in  the  market  will  sell  nothing  by 
wholesale.  If  potatoes  are  a  medio,  six  cents,  a  pound,  every 
pound  will  be  weighed  out  separately,  no  matter  whether  you 
buy  two  pounds  or  a  bushel. 

There  is  no  money  smaller  than  the  quartillo,  three  cents, 
so  the  change  is  made  in  loaves  of  bread.  On  his  way  to 
market  the  buyer  stops  at  the  baker's  and  fills  his  basket  with 
bread  to  make  change  with,  so  many  rolls  to  the  penny. 
Very  few  people  have  money,  and  those  who  have  lack 
confidence  in  their  neighbors,  so  everything  has  to  be  paid  for 
in  advance. 

If  you  go  to  a  market-woman  and  tell  her  you  want  such 
and  such  vegetables,  she  asks  for  your  money.  When  you 
give  it  to  her  she  hands  you  what  you  have  bought.  If  you 
order  a  coat  at  the  tailor's  or  boots  at  the  shoemaker's,  you 
have  to  pay  for  them  in  advance,  for  they  may  not  have  the 
means  to  get  the  materials  at  the  wholesale  store,  and  have 
no  credit.  The  landlord  at  the  hotel  or  at  the  boarding- 
house  where  you  are  staying,  comes  around  every  morning 
before  he  goes  to  market  and  asks  you  to  pay  your  board  for 
the  day.    Otherwise  he  could  not  buy  food. 

At  the  entrances  of  most  of  the  houses  are  effigies  of  saints 
with  candles  burning  before  them,  and  all  who  enter  must 
take  off  their  hats  and  cross  themselves.  Service  is  going  on 
in  the  churches  almost  continuously,  and  the  air  is  filled  with 
the  clangor  of  bells  from  morning  till  night.  No  lady  of 
quality  goes  to  church  without  a  servant  following  her,  who 


AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES. 


7 


carries  her  prayer  rug.  There  are  no  pews  nor  seats  in  the 
churches,  but  the  floors  are  marked  off  in  squares,  which  are 
rented  like  sittings.  The  servant  lays  the  prayer  rug  down, 
the  lady  kneels  upon  it  during  her  devotions,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  service  the  servant  comes  again  to  take  it  away. 

Servants  always  go  in  droves.  When  you  hire  a  cook 
you  take  her  husband  and  the  rest  of  her  family  to  board,  and 
they  bring  their  dogs  and  rabbits,  their  pigs,  their  chickens 
and  all  their  other  property  with  them.  The  husband  may 
be  a  peddler  or  a  blacksmith,  or  he  may  be  a  soldier,  but  he 
continues  to  live  with  his  wife  when  she  goes  out  to  service. 
The  children  of  the  family  may  be  used  for  light  duties,  such 
as  going  on  errands  or  watching  the  baby,  and  no  extra  pay 
is  expected  ;  but  for  every  servant  you  hire  you  may  depend 
upon  having  a  dozen  or  more  extra  mouths  to  feed. 

Sometimes  the  cook's  relatives  come  to  visit  her,  often  half 
a  dozen  men,  women  and  children,  and  stay  a  week  or  two. 
They  also  must  be  fed  and  taken  care  of,  but  are  not  so  much 
trouble  and  expense  as  it  might  seem,  for  they  are  satisfied 
with  beans,  corn  bread  and  a  little  potato  soup  to  eat,  and 
sleep  on  the  floor  of  the  kitchen,  or  on  the  straw  in  the  stable. 

There  is  not  a  stove  or  a  chimney  in  all  Quito.  The 
weather  is  seldom  cold  enough  to  require  a  fire  for  heating 
purposes,  and  all  the  cooking  is  done  with  charcoal  on  a  sort 
of  shelf  like  a  blacksmith's  forge.  There  must  be  a  different 
fire  for  every  pot  or  kettle,  and  generally  two  persons  to 
attend  them,  one  with  a  pair  of  bellows  and  the  other  to  keep 
the  pots  from  tipping  over,  for  they  are  made  with  rounded 
bottoms  like  a  ginger-beer  bottle.  No  laundry  work  is  ever 
done  in  the  house,  but  all  the  soiled  clothes  are  taken  to  the 
nearest  brook,  washed  in  the  cold  running  water  and  spread 
upon  the  stones  to  dry  in  the  sun. 

Very  little  water  is  used  for  drinking,  for  bathing,  or  for 
laundry  purposes.  There  is  a  national  prejudice  against  it. 
The  people  have  a  notion  that  water  is  unwholesome  ;  that  it 
causes  dyspepsia  if  too  much  is  taken  into  the  stomach,  and 
that  a  fever  will  result  from  too  free  use  of  it  upon  the  skin. 


8 


AN  ODD  OLD  CITY  IN  THE)  ANDES. 


Women  seldom  wash  their  faces,  but  wipe  them  with 
cloths,  and  then  spread  on  a  sort  of  plaster  made  of  magnesia 
and  the  whites  of  eggs.  When  a  person  arrives  from  a 
journey,  particularly  if  he  has  come  from  a  lower  to  a  higher 
altitude,  he  will  not  wash  his  face  for  several  days  for  fear 
that  the  opening  of  the  pores  of  his  skin  will  result  in  cold  and 
fever. 

There  are  many  doctors  in  Quito,  and  some  of  them  are 
men  of  skill.  There  are  drug  stores,  also,  but  when  you  go 
to  one  of  them  for  medicine  you  are  expected  to  take  with  you 
a  bottle  or  a  cup,  or  something  else  to  bring  it  home  in.  The 
druggist  has  no  stock  of  bottles,  and  never  furnishes  them  to 
his  customers.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  all  bottles  have  to 
be  brought  up  the  mountains  from  two  to  three  weeks' 
journey  on  the  backs  of  men,  and  are  therefore  very  expen- 
sive. 

The  Indians  constitute  the  laboring  population,  and  they 
carry  all  their  burdens  on  their  backs.  They  do  not  seem  to 
have  any  strength  in  their  arms.  A  broad  strap  is  passed 
around  the  forehead  to  sustain  the  load,  and  another  around 
the  shoulders.  They  generally  take  a  slow  trot  when  on  a 
journey,  which  they  can  keep  up  for  hours  without  tiring, 
even  with  a  hundred  pounds  on  their  backs. 

They  never  laugh  nor  sing,  have  no  sports,  no  songs,  no 
tales,  but  are  sullen,  morose,  stupid,  and  submissive  to  all 
sorts  of  cruelty  and  oppression.  The  Spaniards  have  been 
hard  masters,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  cruel 
persecution  and  oppression  have  crushed  out  the  spirit  of  the 
poor  son  of  the  Inca,  so  that  he  no  longer  smiles. 


W.  E.  Curtis. 


Carnival  in  Lima 


The  merry  season  of  Carnival  is  prepared  for  by  all 
Peruvians,  several  weeks  in  advance  of  the  eventful  period. 
Numberless  easearones,  which  are  hollow  shells,  generally 
made  of  stearine  or  wax  molded  in  forms  of  tiny  cannon, 
bunches  of  grapes,  fish,  and  other  articles,  are  filled  with 
diluted  Florida  water. 

The  cook  saves  all  egg-shells  whole,  by  blowing  their 
contents  out  for  culinary  purposes,  and  then  fills  them  with 
scented  water. 

In  many  families  bushels  of  easearones  are  laid  away  for 
Carnival  warfare,  and  a  thriving  trade  is  worked  up  each 
year  by  manufacturers  and  venders  of  the  missiles  thrown  in 
the  three  days  given  over  to  the  sports  and  license  of  the 
season.  The  Sunday  previous  to  Ash  Wednesday  opens 
the  Carnival,  and  the  exercises  begin  on  that  day  soon  after 
morning  mass.  J 

About  noon  every  house  seems  converted  into  a  fortress, 
the  inmates  constituting  the  belligerents.  Senoras,  senoritas 
and  children  hiding  on  balconies,  peering  out  from  behind 
screens,  darting  suddenly  from  all  manner  of  strange  places 
on  the  roofs,  pelt  easearones  at  the  passers-by,  and  the  sticky 
pieces  of  shell,  fastening  themselves  upon  the  face,  hair  and 
clothing  of  the  victims,  make  them  look  like  animated  pieces 
of  papier-mache. 

The  sweetness  of  the  accompanying  showers  of  delicate 
perfume  hardly  compensates  for  the  rudeness.  The  cautious 
pedestrian,  during  Carnival,  takes  the  middle  of  the  street, 
and  with  an  umbrella  off  the  spring,  ready  to  fly  open  in  any 
direction,  thinks  himself  well  protected. 

But  suddenly  some  powerful  syringe  throws  out  a  stream 
of  water  from  an  unsuspected  source,  and  the  sparkling 
drops  fall  around  him  in  showers.    His  scowls  and  other 


Carnival   Fun  in  Lima. 


CARNIVAL  IN  IvIMA. 


I  I 


demonstrations  of  displeasure  avail  nothing,  and  he  has  only 
to  pass  on  to  encounter,  perhaps,  a  still  more  formidable 
drenching. 

This  amusing  sport  forms  itself  into  a  kind  of  thermometer, 
measuring  the  heat  of  temper  in  different  individuals.  The 
natives  enjoy  the  fun  thoroughly,  running  the  gauntlet  with 
unequalled  skill,  pelting  back  their  tantalizing  tormentors, 
when  they  get  a  chance,  and,  with  their  spirits  on  the 
crescendo,  reach  a  height  of  enjoyment  a  less  excitable 
people  can  hardly  understand. 

We  were  sitting  in  our  hall  by  an  open  door  one  evening 
when  the  Carnival  had  just  begun,  as  we  felt  the  need  of  a 
little  fresh  air  after  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  were  trusting 
to  luck  for  our  protection,  when  several  friends  gathered 
round  us.  I  ought  to  explain  that  any  gentleman,  whether 
acquaintance  or  stranger,  is  fair  game  for  any  lady  during 
this  season.  Almost  before  we  were  aware  of  it,  we  were 
objectively  engaged  in  the  Carnival. 

We  were  reluctant  to  defend  ourselves,  as  it  was  the 
Sabbath,  and  made  a  retreat,  as  quickly  as  possible,  thor- 
oughly perfumed  with  Florida  water  administered  by  strangers 
passing,  as  well  as  by  friends  standing  near. 

Very  early  next  morning  our  young  people  awoke  in  a 
high  state  of  excitement  over  the  expected  festivities. 
Enough  water  lay  secure  in  cascarones  in  our  house  to  cause 
a  deluge  on  a  small  scale. 

I  soon  saw  that  a  general  demoralization  of  the  family 
had  taken  place,  and  that  our  patience  would  have  to  be 
maintained  through  much  tribulation.  Before  the  hour  for 
breakfast  the  clothing  of  each  child  was  thoroughly  soaked, 
and  soon  after  breakfast  they  were  saturated  again. 

At  eleven  o'clock  this  wild  sport  was,  by  an  accident  of 
the  play,  shifted  to  a  neighboring  native  house,  all  the 
family  taking  an  active  part.  The  throwing  of  water  was 
not  confined  to  the  garden ;  rooms  handsomely  furnished, 
and  halls  richly  carpeted,  were  thrown  open  regardless  of  the 
damage  that  would  result  from  the  play. 


CARNIVAt  IN  LIMA. 


The  actors,  dressed  in  bathing  costumes,  employed  their 
skill  and  inventive  faculties  for  many  an  hour,  and  surprised 
each  other  with  all  manner  of  curious  ways  of  applying 
the  water.  The  Carnival  had  resolved  itself  into  a  mimic 
battle. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  after  the  conflict 
was  over  and  the  participants  had  changed  their  clothing,  the 
lady  of  the  house  served  a  lunch,  over  which  a  truce  was 
established  for  a  few  hours. 

Tuesday  night  being  the  last  of  the  Carnival  proper,  the 
excitement  reaches  its  greatest  height.  Foreigners  as  well 
as  natives,  completely  drawn  under  the  influence  of  the 
absurd  custom,  enter  into  the  sport  with  energy. 

Collected  on  the  balconies  and  tops  of  the  flat-roofed 
houses,  they  not  only  drench  each  other,  but  throw  buckets 
full  of  water  upon  unfortunate  persons  passing  by  on  the 
pavement.  Those  who  think  themselves  safe  in  passing  at 
a  distance  are  reached  by  the  aid  of  a  hose.  Bright-colored 
paints  are  also  brought  into  requisition. 

Some  idea  of  the  utter  abandon  of  everybody  at  this  time 
may  be  gained  from  the  following  incident :  A  day  or  two 
before  Carnival  a  young  lady  anticipated  the  occasion  by 
playing  a  little  trick  upon  her  dentist. 

He  was  putting  a  neat  filling  of  gold  into  a  tooth  —  one  of 
those  delicate  and  difficult  pieces  of  work  of  which  a  dentist 
is  so  proud  —  and  was  performing  the  most  delicate  part  of  his 
task,  when  the  young  lady  quietly  passed  her  arm  around 
him,  and  bringing  her  hand  up  to  his  ear  burst  a  cascarone 
into  it !    He  said  it  sounded  like  a  thunder-clap. 

The  water  ran  down  his  ear  and  neck  ;  his  nerves  received 
a  shock  as  from  an  electric  battery.  The  job  of  dentistry 
was  spoiled,  the  work  had  to  be  done  over  again,  and  the 
father  had  an  increased  bill  to  pay.  But  this  was  Carnival 
fun  and  the  parties  were  obliged  to  laugh  and  make  the 
best  of  it. 

Maria  Louise  Wetmore. 


A  Venezuelan  Railway 


There  are  few  more  interesting  engineering  achievements 
than  the  little  narrow-gage  railroad  running  to  Caracas,  the 
capital  of  Venezuela,  from  its  seaport,  L,a  Guayra.  The 
distance  between  the  two  cities,  as  the  crow  flies, — supposing 
for  the  moment  that  he  could  fly  straight  through  the  moun- 
tain,—  is  only  six  miles  ;  but  the  railway  connecting  them  is 
twenty-three  miles  in  length,  and  constantly  twists  and  turns 
on  itself. 

The  road  runs  in  zigzag  fashion  up  the  mountain  to  an 
altitude  of  about  fifty-one  hundred  feet  above  its  starting  point, 
and  then  descends  some  fifteen  hundred  feet  in  the  same 
manner  into  the  valley  of  Caracas. 

Twenty-two  thousand  rails  were  used  in  laying  the  track, 
and  of  these  over  eighteen  thousand  are  bent.  It  is  jestingly 
said  that  the  engineer  almost  died  of  a  broken  heart,  because 
he  could  invent  no  excuse  for  bending  the  remaining  four 
thousand.  He  did  his  best,  however,  and  no  one  who  has  to 
ride  over  the  road,  and  finds  himself  shaken  at  every  one  of 
the  three  hundred  and  forty-six  sharp  twists  which  the  track 
makes,  will  find  it  in  his  heart  to  condemn  the  poor  man  for 
not  making  a  perfect  job. 

Two  passenger  trains  each  way  pass  over  the  road  daily, 
leaving  La  Guayra  at  half-past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  at 
half-past  three  in  the  afternoon,  making  the  journey  in  two 
hours  and  a  half.  This  is  a  speed,  exclusive  of  stops,  of  not 
quite  ten  miles  an  hour. 

Each  train  consists  of  a  locomotive,  a  baggage-car,  and  two 
or  three  passenger  coaches  about  the  size  of  a  street-car  in 
Northern  cities.  The  seats  run  lengthwise  through  the  car  — 
an  arrangement  necessitated  by  the  narrow  gage  of  the  road. 

The  fare  for  the  twenty-three  miles  is  two  dollars  and  a 
half  first-class,  and  one  dollar  and  sixty  cents  second.  The 


14 


A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY. 


accommodations  are  equally  bad  in  the  cars  of  the  two  classes  ; 
the  only  visible  difference  between  the  two  is  that  the  first- 
class  car  is  the  less  crowded. 

The  locomotive  is  a  queer  little  machine,  about  the  size  of 
a  dirt-cart.  It  has  no  bell,  but  the  obliging  engineer  atones 
for  this  deficiency  by  keeping  up  an  almost  continuous 
whistling. 

As  we  leave  the  little  station  at  La  Guayra,  we  take  a 
serpentine  course  for  about  a  mile  through  cocoanut  groves 
along  the  sea.  Why  the  road  does  not  take  a  straight  course 
through  this  first  portion  of  the  way,  the  constructor  only 
knows,  for  the  ground  is  perfectly  level,  and  there  are  no 
obstructions  more  serious  than  a  cocoanut  palm  or  a  banana 
plant. 

After  writhing  along  the  beach  for  a  short  time,  we  sud- 
denly make  a  sharp  turn,  and  then  begins  the  climb  up  the 
face  of  the  mountain. 

Up,  up,  up  we  go,  turning  now  to  the  right  and  again  to 
the  left,  then  making  what  seems  to  be  an  almost  complete 
circle,  now  passing  through  a  tunnel  —  where  we  are  nearly 
stifled  by  the  hot  air  and  gases  from  the  engine,  which  sweep 
through  the  open  cars,  carrying  with  them  cinders  that  burn 
holes  in  the  clothes,  or  raise  blisters  where  they  touch  the 
unprotected  skin.  Then  we  emerge  from  the  hole  in  the 
mountain-side  in  a  place  where  we  appear  to  be  on  the  point 
of  jumping  over  the  precipice  one  or  two  thousand  feet  sheer 
down  into  the  water  that  laps  its  base. 

But  we  forget  for  a  moment  the  constructor's  passion  for 
curves.  We  make  two  or  three  short  turns,  as  if  uncertain  of 
our  course,  and  then  hoist  sharply  round,  and  go  back  the 
way  we  came.  As  we  look  down  from  the  car  window  we  see 
the  track  over  which  we  have  just  passed  about  fifty  feet  from 
us,  and  directly  beneath  us. 

Suddenly  we  stop.  We  wonder  what  has  happened,  for 
there  is  no  house  in  sight,  and  it  would  be  difficult  indeed  for 
any  one  to  find  a  spot  on  which  to  perch  a  house,  so  steep  is 
the  declivity.    The  only  thing  visible  except  trees  and  rocks 


A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY. 


t5 


is  a  large  iron  pipe  running  over  wooden  supports  through  a 
small  ravine  ;  and  now  we  see  that  it  carries  water  for  the 


A  Venezuelan  Railway. 


refreshment  of  our  thirsty  little  engine.  Six  times  we  stop  in 
this  way  in  our  wild  dance  up  the  mountain-side,  to  take 
breath  and  water  our  engine,  until  we  cross  the  highest  point 


r6 


A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY. 


and  begin  to  slide  down  to  Caracas.  In  going  down  the 
mountain  on  either  side  gravity  is  the  only  propulsive  force 
employed,  steam  being  kept  up  only  to  work  the  brakes  and 
prevent  too  rapid  a  descent. 

There  is  but  one  station,  apart  from  the  watering  places, 
between  L,a  Guayra  and  Caracas,  and  this  the  railroad  people 
have  most  appropriately  named  Zigzag.  Here  the  trains  from 
opposite  directions  meet  and  pass  each  other. 

As  soon  as  the  engine  has  filled  its  boiler,  it  gives  one 
long  shriek  of  warning,  the  passengers  climb  into  the  little 
cars,  and  we  follow  once  more  the  giddy  wake. 

The  scenery,  as  viewed  from  the  window  of  our  car,  is 
grand  ;  but  in  order  to  enjoy  it  thoroughly  one  must  possess 
strong  nerves.  At  our  feet,  a  thousand  metres  below,  we  see 
a  faint  streak,  which  is  the  narrow  beach  on  which  L,a  Guayra 
lies.  The  houses  in  the  town  look  like  dice,  and  the  men  and 
donkeys  in  the  streets  have  become  invisible. 

Beyond,  stretching  away  to  the  horizon,  now  vastly  ex- 
tended by  reason  of  our  elevation,  we  see  the  sparkling  blue 
waters  of  the  West  Indian  Ocean.  A  mere  speck  which  we 
can  hardly  discern  on  the  surface  of  the  sea  is  the  ship  which 
brought  us  to  this  coast,  and  which  left  for  the  chilly  north  an 
hour  before  we  began  our  cloudward  climb. 

If  we  turn  and  look  ahead,  we  see  the  mountain  rising  up 
ever  higher  and  higher  until  its  peak  is  lost  in  the  cloud  that 
always  clings  to  it,  as  if  feariul  of  trusting  itself  to  fly  alone 
and  without  support  over  the  distant  ocean. 

The  air,  which  was  so  hot  and  sultry  on  the  coast,  is 
growing  more  and  more  fresh  as  we  ascend,  and  it  becomes 
almost  chilly  as  the  cloud  hugging  the  mountain-top  receives 
us,  and  draws  the  curtain  which  hides  from  our  view  the 
beauties  of  nature  as  well  as  the  dangers  which  encompass  us. 

Dangerous  as  the  ascent  of  the  mountain  appears  to  be, 
and  really  is,  accidents  are  fortunately  rare,  owing  to  the 
constant  vigilance  exercised  by  the  officials  of  the  road  over 
every  foot  of  the  track.  Landslides  do  occasionally  take  place, 
nevertheless,  and  no  amount  of  watchfulness  can  prevent  them, 


A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY. 


17 


or  even  give  warning  of  their  occurrence.  Fortunately  they 
have  never  yet  happened  to  strike  a  train.  The  road-bed  in 
many  places  is  a  mere  scratch  in  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
barely  wide  enough  to  permit  the  passage  of  the  narrow  cars. 
The  outer  rail  is  often  laid  within  a  few  inches  of  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  so  that  in  looking  from  the  window  one  sees 
nothing  but  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  hundreds  of  feet  below. 

While  the  road  was  building,  it  was  frequently  found 
necessary  to  lower  men  by  long  ropes  from  above  until  they 
could  make  for  themselves  a  foothold  by  means  of  pick  and 
shovel. 

When  one  realizes  how  much  labor  and  money  have  been 
expended  in  forcing  this  way  through  almost  inconceivable 
natural  obstacles,  it  seems  indeed  a  pity  that  such  a  triumph 
of  engineering  skill  should  be  doomed  to  an  ephemeral 
existence ;  but  already  the  freight  and  passenger  traffic  taxes 
the  capacity  of  the  road  to  its  utmost,  and  if  the  present  rate 
of  increase  continues,  it  will  be  but  a  very  few  years  before  it 
will  be  utterly  unable  to  handle  it. 

Work  is  already  being  rapidly  pushed  forward  by  an 
American  company  on  a  new  route  between  I^a  Guayra  and 
Caracas,  which  is  to  pass  under  the  mountain  through  a 
tunnel  four  miles  in  length.  The  cars  on  this  new  road  will 
be  hauled  by  cable  power  up  a  ten  per  cent,  gradient,  and  will 
carry  freight  and  passengers  from  one  city  to  the  other  in  less 
than  half  an  hour. 

Thomas  L.  Stedman. 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


If  I  should  hear  of  any  one  intending  to  visit  Bolivia  for 
pleasure,  I  should  offer  him  the  advice  that  Mr.  Punch  gave 
to  young  people  about  to  marry — "Don't;"  for  the  settled 
portion  of  that  republic  is  almost  as  inaccessible  as  the  interior 
of  Africa,  and  there  is  but  little  to  learn  or  see  when  it  is 
finally  reached. 

But  to  a  traveller  who  is  in  search  of  experience  I  would 
recommend  the  journey,  for  there  is  no  other  part  of  the  world 
where  one  can  get  so  much  experience  or  so  great  a  variety  in 
so  short  a  time,  and  for  the  same  amount  of  money. 

First  there  is  the  voyage  from  New  York  to  Aspinwall, 
which  in  the  summer  season  is  comfortable  and  pleasant ;  next 
the  trip  by  rail  over  the  famous  Panama  road  across  the 
Isthmus,  when  one  of  the  commodious  vessels  of  the  Pacific 
Steam  Navigation  Company  is  taken,  and  the  traveller  lives 
a  sort  of  picnic  life  for  the  next  three  weeks,  until  the  port  of 
Mollendo  is  reached. 

The  waters  of  the  South  Pacific  are  always  smooth,  the 
weather  is  always  fair  during  the  dry  season,  the  scenery  is 
sublime,  the  temperature  is  never  too  hot  nor  too  cool,  and  as 
long  as  you  remain  under  the  awnings  or  in  the  protection  of 
some  other  shade,  the  breezes  from  the  ocean  or  the  Andes 
temper  the  tropic  heat. 

The  ship  stops  at  all  the  ports  along  the  coast,  often 
dropping  anchor  two  or  three  times  a  day,  and  giving  the 
passenger  an  opportunity  to  go  ashore  and  inspect  all  of  the 
quaint  towns  and  villages,  each  one  of  which  ordinarily  offers 
some  new  and  novel  adventure.  I  can  suggest  no  more 
agreeable  or  interesting  voyage  than  that  between  Panama 
and  Valparaiso. 

Mollendo  is  about  two-thirds  of  the  way.  There  passen- 
gers for  Bolivia  leave  the  ship  and  take  a  railway,  which  was 


THK  LAND  OF  THK  LLAMA. 


*9 


built  and  is  still  managed  by  an  enterprising  Boston  Yankee. 
The  conveniences  of  travel  by  this  line  have  not  reached  so 
high  a  state  of  perfection  as  are  found  upon  those  which  run 
between  New  York,  Philadelphia  and  Boston,  but  it  is  a  great 
improvement  upon  muleback-riding  over  a  thirsty  desert  and 
through  the  dizzy  passes  of  the  Andes. 

This  railroad  is  remarkable  for  running  nearer  the  stars 
than  almost  any  other  railway,  for  where  it  passes  over  the 
western  range  of  the  Andes,  into  the  great  basin  of  the 
southern  continent,  the  track  is  fourteen  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  sixty-five  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  only  higher 
point  at  which  a  wheel  was  ever  turned  by  steam  is  where 
another  Peruvian  railway  tunnels  the  Andes.  No  other  long 
road  can  show  an  equal  amount  of  excavation,  nor  such 
massive  embankments,  and  the  engineering  difficulties  over- 
come in  its  construction  were  enormous, 

Along  the  side  of  the  track  for  a  distance  of  eighty-five 
miles  is  an  iron  pipe,  eight  inches  in  diameter,  which  conducts 
water  from  the  springs  in  the  mountains  for  the  engines  and 
for  the  use  of  the  people  that  dwell  in  the  desert.  On  the 
other  side  of  this  desert  is  the  city  of  Arequipa,  whose  name 
signifies  the  place  of  rest,  although  it  is  more  subject  to 
earthquakes  and  political  revolutions  than  any  other  place  in 
Peru,  and  human  or  natural  agencies  are  raising  a  commotion 
all  the  while. 

The  former  terminus  of  the  railway  was  at  Puno,  a  little 
town  of  five  thousand  inhabitants,  at  an  elevation  of  twelve 
thousand  five  hundred  feet;  but  it  has  been  carried  farther 
up  the  great  basin,  and  extended  through  a  pass  in  the 
eastern  range  of  the  Cordilleras,  and  down  the  slopes  to  the 
headwaters  of  the  Amazon. 

To  reach  I^a  Paz,  the  former  seat  of  government  and 
capital  of  Bolivia,  one  must  cross  I^ake  Titicaca,  that  strange 
and  bottomless  sheet  of  water,  one  of  whose  islands  was  the 
legendary  Eden  of  the  Incas,  and  around  whose  shores  clustered 
the  prehistoric  cities  which  the  brutal  Spaniards  destroyed. 
Here  one  may  take  a  steamer,  at  any  rate  that  is  what  the 


20 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA. 


people  call  it,  although  it  would  amuse  a  North  American 
shipwright,  and  usually  excites  a  nervous  apprehension  in  the 
minds  of  timid  travellers. 

If  one  does  not  care  to  board  this  unique  craft,  or  if  he 
wishes  to  depart  from  the  regular  route  of  travel  and  make  a 
cruise  among  the  ruined  cities  of  the  Incas,  he  can  hire  what 
is  called  a  balsa,  a  curious  combination  of  raft,  flatboat  and 
catamaran,  which  is  propelled  by  a  large  sail  made  of  skins 
and  by  long  poles. 

Reaching  the  southern  point  of  the  lake,  the  rest  of  the 
journey,  wherever  one  may  be  going,  must  be  made  on 
muleback  along  the  ancient  highway  of  the  Incas,  which  was 
constructed  centuries  before  the  conquest,  and  is  perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  of  the  many  remains  of  that  remarkable  race. 
The  Spaniards  have  done  little  to  improve  it  since  they  have 
had  control  of  the  country,  more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  but  it  is  still  in  a  pretty  good  state  of  preservation,  and 
is  continually  trodden  by  parties  of  travellers,  battalions  of 
troops  and  droves  of  llamas,  often  thousands  in  number, 
laden  with  the  products  of  the  forests  and  mines  of  Bolivia. 

As  the  camel  is  to  the  people  of  the  deserts  of  Asia  and 
Africa,  so  is  the  llama  to  those  who  dwell  in  the  Andes  ;  a 
faithful,  patient  and  enduring  beast,  without  which  the 
inhabitants  would  be  utterly  helpless,  for  mules  and  horses 
can  neither  survive  the  climate  nor  climb  the  mountain  trails. 

But  the  llamas  one  sees  in  Bolivia  are  as  much  unlike  the 
animals  shown  in  the  zoological  gardens  as  the  tiger  in  the 
jungles  of  India  is  unlike  his  namesake  that  growls  and 
yawns  in  a  circus  cage. 

Their  bodies  are  covered  with  a  soft,  thick  gray  wool  like 
that  of  the  merino  sheep,  their  giraffe-like  necks  are  proudly 
and  gracefully  curved,  their  eyes  are  large,  lustrous,  intelli- 
gent, and  have  an  expression  of  constant  inquiry.  Their  ears 
are  shapely,  and  quiver  continually,  like  those  of  a  high- 
mettled  stallion,  as  if  to  catch  the  first  sound  of  approaching 
danger. 

The  llama  to  me  is  a  most  fascinating  study.    While  he  is 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA, 


21 


docile,  obedient  and  enduring,  there  is  always  an  air  of 
suspicion  or  distrust  about  him,  and  a  silent  dignity  that 
forbids  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance. He  carries 
his  load  of  one  hundred 
pounds  of  ore,  or  coca,  or 
cinchona,  or  other  mer- 
chandise, up  and  down 
the  precipitous  pathways 
where  no  other  beast  of 
burden  can  go,  and  where 
it  is  difficult  for  man  to 
follow.    But  when 


Llamas  descending  the  Mountain. 

he  is  overloaded  he  resents  it, 
and  lies  down.    No  amount  of 
coaxing  or  bullying  or  beating 
can  get  him  to  his  feet  until  the 
surplus  is  removed  from  his  back, 
when  he  rises  solemnly  and  marches 
off  with  his  load.    He  will  carry  a 
hundred  pounds,  but  no  more,  and 
his   cargo  is  packed  in  sacks,  or 
panniers,  one-half  on  either 


22 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA. 


Therefore  all  freight  subject  to  this  mode  of  transportation 
must  be  packed  accordingly,  and  limited  to  packages  of  fifty 
pounds. 

When  frightened,  llamas  always  cluster  in  groups,  with 
their  tails  together  and  their  heads  out  to  meet  the  enemy ; 
and  their  only  weapon  of  defence  is  their  saliva,  which,  when 
angry,  they  squirt  through  their  teeth  in  showers,  as  a  Chinese 
laundryman  sprinkles  his  clothes. 

A  drop  of  this  saliva,  falling  in  the  ear  or  eye  or  mouth,  or 
on  any  part  of  the  body  where  the  skin  is  broken,  will  instantly 
produce  a  most  painful  irritation,  and  often  dangerous  sores, 
like  the  venom  of  a  serpent.  The  llama-drivers  keep  away 
from  the  heads  of  their  animals  as  carefully  as  a  colored  man 
from  the  heels  of  a  mule. 

When  they  lie  down  they  fold  their  long,  slender  legs 
under  them  in  some  mysterious  manner,  and  chew  their  cud 
with  an  air  of  abstract  contemplation  and  absolute  content. 

The  kids  afford  excellent  food,  but  the  bodies  of  the  old 
llamas  are  masses  of  muscle,  tendon  and  gristle  that  are  tough 
and  rank.  They  live  to  a  great  age,  subsist  upon  almost 
anything  in  the  shape  of  food,  and  have  as  powerful  a  digestive 
apparatus  as  a  goat  or  an  ostrich. 

In  these  elevated  regions,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  difficult  for 
either  horses  or  mules  to  exist,  the  air  being  too  thin  for  them. 
Horses  are  seldom  seen,  and  mules  are  kept  only  for  the 
accommodation  of  travellers,  and  their  nostrils  are  split  so  as 
to  make  it  easier  for  them  to  breathe. 

When  a  horse  is  brought  into  the  high  altitudes  of  the 
Andes  the  blood  starts  from  his  mouth,  ears  and  nose,  and 
men  are  often  affected  in  the  same  way.  The  disease  is 
known  as  "sirroche,"  and  sometimes  is  fatal.  The  natives, 
having  been  born  and  bred  at  this  great  elevation,  are  no  more 
affected  by  the  rarity  of  the  atmosphere  than  the  negroes  of 
the  Brazilian  swamps  are  by  the  heat. 

W.  E.  Curtis. 


An  Evening  in  a  Brazilian  Forest. 


Let  us  wander  in  imagination  through  a  Brazilian  forest, 
just  as  the  burning  heat  of  day  is  passing  into  the  cool  of 
evening.  As  yet  nature  seems  asleep,  and  a  solemn  silence 
reigns  under  the  shade  of  the  colossal  forest  trees,  some  nearly 
two  hundred  feet  high  ;  the  Brazil  nut  and  monkey-cup  trees, 
the  king-tree  and  the  cow-tree,  which  spread  their  vast 
cupolas  of  foliage  over  the  smaller  cecropias  ;  tree-ferns  and 
palms  which,  though  smaller,  are 
some  of  them  from  fifty  to  a  hundred 
feet  high. 

By  and  by,  as  we  look  up  into  the 
branches  of  a  cecropia-tree,  we  see  a 
hairy  mass  resting  in  the  fork  between 
a  bough  and  the  trunk,  and  barely 
visible,  so  like  is  the  tint  of  the  hair 
to  the  lichens  and  dead-brown  mosses 
which  clothe  the  bark.  This  mass  is 
a  sloth,  grasping  the  bough  firmly 
with  his  clawed  feet,  as  he  sleeps 
through  the  heat  of  the  day.  It  is 
only  when  the  cool  of  evening  sets  in 
that  he  will  wake  up  to  feed,  and  move  quickly  along  from 
tree  to  tree,  grappling  each  branch  as  he  goes  with  his  twisted 
feet,  and  using  his  long  arms  and  supple  wrists  to  reach  to  the 
tips  of  the  boughs  for  tender  growing  shoots,  which  he  tears  off 
and  stuffs  into  his  mouth  to  chew  them  with  his  feeble  back 
teeth. 

To  see  him  on  the  ground  when  he  has  to  cross  an  open 
space,  you  would  think  him  a  poor  creature  at  best,  for  his 
ankles  are  so  twisted  that  he  can  only  tread  on  the  side  of  his 
feet.  His  toes  are  joined,  and  he  has  three  on  each  foot,  armed 
with  long  claws  very  inconvenient  to  tread  upon,  and  his  arms 


A  Brazilian  Forest. 


But  when  once  he  has  hoisted  himself  aloft  again,  these 
strange  limbs  serve  him  well.  The  twisted  ankles  enable 
his  long  claws  to  take  a  firm  hold  of  the  branches,  his  long 


AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN  FOREST. 


25 


arms  reach  for  his  food,  and  his  long,  unwieldy  neck,  which 
has  more  joints  than  in  other  mammals,  allows  him  to  throw 
his  head  backward  to  seek  for  food.  He  has  no  front  teeth, 
but  his  sharp  claws  do  the  work  instead;  and  his  back  teeth, 
though  they  have  neither  enamel  nor  roots,  continue  to  grow 
up  from  below  as  they  are  worn  away  above. 

In  this  way  the  sloth  makes  the  most  of  the  very  primitive 
body  which  he  has  inherited  from  his  ancestors,  which  stood 
very  low  in  the  scale  of  mammals,  and  if  he  could  relate  the 
history  of  his  forefathers  it  would  be  a  very  interesting  one. 

First  he  would  tell  us  that  he  belongs  to  a  feeble  and 
dying  group  of  creatures  who  wander  few  and  far  between  in 
distant  parts  of  the  world  ;  and  that  while  he  has  two  very 
distant  relations — the  ant-bear  and  the  armadillo  —  roaming 
about  the  forests  near  him,  we  must  travel  right  across  the 
sea  to  South  Africa  to  find  the  other  two  branches  of  the 
family  stem,  the  aardvarks  and  pangolins. 

It  is  toward  nightfall  that  we  must  look  for  his  American 
compatriots  as,  leaving  the  thicker  parts  of  the  forest,  we 
wander  toward  the  banks  of  the  River  Amazon  or  some  smaller 
stream.  There  we  may  see  creeping  along  in  the  dark  a 
large,  gray,  hairy  animal  about  four  feet  and  a  half  long,  with 
black-colored  throat  and  shoulders  and  a  line  of  thick  hair 
along  his  back,  ending  in  a  bushy  tail  three  feet  long,  which 
drags  behind  him  on  the  ground. 

His  front  feet  are  twisted  so  that  he  walks  upon  the  edge 
instead  of  the  sole,  and  his  thin,  tube-like,  toothless  snout 
almost  touches  the  ground  as  he  moves  along,  his  thread-like 
tongue  protruded  at  intervals,  as  though  to  test  the  objects  he 
passes. 

This  shambling,  heavy-going  creature  is  the  great  ant- 
bear,*  and  he  is  in  search  of  ant-hills  and  termite  (or  white 
ant)  mounds,  for  these  animals  are  his  chief  food,  as  he 
thrusts  into  their  homes  his  long,  flexible  tongue,  covered 
with  sticky  moisture,  bringing  out  thousands  at  each  thrust. 

His  toothless  mouth,  his  imperfect  collar-bone  and  his 

*  Myrmecophaga  jubata, 


26 


AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN  FOREST. 


twisted,  clawed  feet  with  united  toes,  all  show  that  he  belongs 
to  the  same  low  group  as  the  sloth. 

But  our  wonder  ceases  when  we  learn  how  strong  the  great 
ant-bear  is.  The  muscles  of  his  arms  and  shoulders  are  so 
powerful  that  he  can  hug  his  enemies  to  death,  while  his 
strong  claws  once  dug  into  the  flesh  never  loose  their  hold. 
Therefore,  although  he  has  no  teeth,  he  can  defend  himself 
even  against  the  jaguar ;  and  he  does  not  fear  to  wander  freely 
and  rifle  the  ant-nests  of  the  South  American  forests,  just  as 
his  distant  relation,  the  pangolin,  with  like  twisted  feet  and 
toothless  mouth,  feeds  on  termites  in  South  Africa,  protected 
not  by  strength,  but  by  scaly  armor. 

Then  is  the  time  that  the  howling  monkeys  make  the  forest 
resound  with  their  cries,  and  croaking  frogs,  chirping  cicadas, 
chattering  parrots  and  yelping  toucans  raise  a  very  Babel  of 
sounds,  soon  after  sunset.  It  is  at  this  hour,  or  perhaps 
rather  later,  when  the  evening  chatter  has  sunk  to  rest,  that 
the  tatou,  or  great  armadillo,  about  three  feet  long,  begins  to 
wander,  feeding  upon  fallen  fruits,  or  digging  deep  burrows 
with  his  long,  powerful  claws  in  search  of  roots  and  grubs. 
He  alone  of  the  American  "Edentata,"  or  imperfect-toothed 
animals,  walks  on"the  soles  of  all  four  feet,  and  in  this,  as  in 
many  other  ways,  more  resembles  the  aardvark,  or  ant-eater 
of  South  Africa,  than  his  companions  in  America. 

But  all  this  time  our  dreamy  sloth  is  waiting  to  tell  us  the 
history  of  the  past,  and  how  it  happens  that  he  and  his  com- 
rades have  distant  connections  so  far  away  as  South  Africa, 
and  yet  none  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  If  he  could  speak, 
he  would  boast  with  pride,  as  others  have  done  before  him, 
that  there  was  once  a  time  when  his  family  spread  far  over  the 
face  of  the  earth  ;  when  from  India,  Greece  and  France  to  the 
Mississippi  Valley,  Nebraska  and  California,  animals  with 
imperfect  teeth  and  immense  claws  wandered  not  in  trees,  but 
on  the  ground. 

This  was  in  hot  Miocene  times,  when  they  were  among  the 
highest  animals  living  on  the  globe  ;  but  as  time  went  on,  and 
higher  and  stronger  creatures  —  elephants  and  buffaloes,  lions, 


AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN  FOREST. 


27 


tigers,  leopards  and  others  —  killed  them,  or  drove  them  out  of 
the  great  continent,  the  remainder  found  homes  in  South  Africa 
and  South  America.  Then  came  the  time  when,  cut  off  from 
the  world  to  the  north,  huge  ground-sloths*  as  large  as 
elephants  ruled  supreme  in  South  America,  walking  on  their 
twisted  forefeet,  and  instead  of  climbing  trees,  tore  them  up 
by  the  roots  to  feed  on  their  foliage.  And  with  these  gigantic 
animals  were  others,  nine  feet  long,t  the  ancestors  of  the 
armadillos,  with  armor-plates  not  movable,  but  formed  into  a 
solid  shield,  while  to  complete  the  group  an  ancient  form  of 
the  ant-bear +  bore  them  company. 

For  long  ages  these  monsters  nourished,  and  much  later 
on  left  their  bones  in  the  bone-caves  of  Brazil,  where,  mingled 
with  more  modern  bones  of  sloth,  armadillo  and  ant-bear,  they 
tell  the  history  of  the  past.  And  then  they  died  out ;  and  as 
the  great  Brazilian  forests  flourished  and  overspread  the  land, 
the  sloth  and  smaller  ant-bears  took  refuge  in  an  arboreal  life, 
while  the  great  ant-bear  trusted  to  his  powerful  limbs,  and  the 
armadillo  to  his  plated  armor,  for  protection  in  their  nightly 
wanderings  ;  and  thus  they  remained  to  tell  of  an  ancient  and 
once  powerful  race,  now  leading  a  secluded  life  in  South 
American  wilds. 

Arabella  B.  Buckley. 


*  Megatherium,  etc.  t  Glyptoclon.  t  Glossotherium. 


South  American  Games. 


The  boys  and  girls  of  South  America  have  many  of  the 
same  amusements  that  occupy  the  time  of  their  cousins  in  the 
northern  half  of  the  hemisphere.  Displays  of  toys  are  seen 
in  the  shop  windows  of  Santiago  and  Lima  and  Buenos  Ayres 
and  Rio  de  Janeiro,  that  remind  one  of  the  attractions  of  the 
New  York  stores  at  holiday  times,  and  the  imported  play- 
things come  from  the  same  places  where  ours  are  made, —  from 
France,  Switzerland  and  Germany. 

The  boys  have  rocking-horses,  and  tin  locomotives,  and 
lead  soldiers  ;  and  the  girls  have  dolls,  and  tiny  sets  of  china, 
exactly  like  those  sold  in  Boston  and  Chicago,  and  they  play 
with  them  in  the  same  way.  The  Spanish- Americans  are  an 
amusement-loving  people,  and  gratify  the  wishes  of  their  chil- 
dren with  quite  as  much  liberality  and  extravagance  as  the 
Yankees. 

The  South  American  children  play  "  Hide  and  Seek,"  too, 
but  they  call  it  "  Juego  de  Escondite  ;  "  they  have  picnics, 
which  they  call  "  Meriendes  ;  "  and  "  Gallinita  Ciega,"  which 
is  a  sort  of  "  Blind  Man's  Buff,"  only  it  is  usually  played  in 
the  patios  or  courtyards  around  which  the  houses  are  built, 
and  not  within  doors. 

They  play  "  Pussy-wants-a-corner,"  which  is  called  "El 
Juego  de  las  Cuatro  Esquinas  ;  "  tag  and  cross-tag  ;  the  girls 
have  skipping  ropes  (Cuerda  para  saltar). 

They  also  have  a  game  called  "  Frio  y  Caliente,"  like  our 
"Cold  and  Hot."  One  member  of  the  party  is  sent  out  of  the 
room.  Those  who  remain  select  some  object,  a  door-knob,  or 
a  picture,  or  some  article  of  furniture,  which  is  to  be  detected 
by  the  one  who  is  "  It, "  as  they  say.  As  the  "  It  "  approaches 
the  article  selected,  the  party  cry  "caliente,"  which  signifies 
that  he  is  close  to  it,  and  when  he  goes  in  the  opposite 
direction  they  cry  "  frio,"  which  means  cold. 


SOUTH  AMERICAN  GAMES. 


29 


Sometimes  the  piano  is  used,  and  the  performer  plays 
louder  as  the  "  It  "  goes  away  from  the  article,  and  softer  as 
he  approaches  near,  until  finally  when  his  hands  touch  it  the 
music  ceases,  and  some  one  else  takes  his  turn. 

Dolls  are  called  "  Munecas  "  in  Spanish,  and  their  clothes 
are  "Vestidos."  The  boys  have  tops  that  are  called 
"  Trompos  ;  "  pop-guns  called  ' '  Tiraballes  ;  "  and  marbles 
that  are  called  "Metras"  in  the  northern  countries,  and 
"  Bolletas  "  in  Peru  and  Chile.  They  usually  play  marbles 
in  a  ring,  with  a  hole  in  the  centre.  If  the  player  gets  his 
own  alley  into  the  hole  he  loses  it,  but  if  he  knocks  the  alley 
of  some  other  boy  into  the  hole  it  is  his.  They  play  with  a 
row  of  holes,  too,  placing  a  marble  in  each,  and  then  try  to 
knock  it  out  by  dropping  their  own  upon  it. 

There  is  a  tree  in  the  tropical  countries  that  produces  hard, 
round  nuts  like  marbles.  They  are  called  "  Jaboncillos,"  and 
the  boys  use  them  in  preference  to  marbles  made  of  clay. 

The  indoor  games  are  comparatively  few,  as  the  weather 
in  most  of  the  South  American  countries  is  so  mild  that  the 
children  can  spend  most  of  their  time  out-of-doors. 

They  have  bull-fights  in  imitation  of  those  attended  by 
their  fathers  and  mothers,  one  boy  acting  as  the  bull,  and  the 
others  teasing  him  as  the  "toreadors"  and  "matadors"  tor- 
ment the  real  animals,  and  when  the  time  comes  the  bull  is 
killed  and  dragged  out  by  a  pair  of  boys  harnessed  up  like 
horses. 

The  military  spirit  is  developed  early,  and  the  boys  organize 
companies  with  drums,  and  tin  swords,  and  wooden  guns,  and 
wear  uniforms  which  their  mothers  make  for  them.  Political 
parties  are  found  also  among  the  boys  as  among  their  fathers, 
and  revolutions  occur  frequently,  which  are  called  "Pronun- 
ciamentos." 

Baseball  is  not  played  as  it  is  in  the  United  States,  but 
the  European  game  of  "  handball,"  or  "  Peloto,"  as  they  call 
it,  is  common.  The  ball  is  thrown  against  a  wall  and  then 
struck  with  the  palm  of  the  hand  as  it  rebounds,  the  object 
being  to  keep  it  from  the  ground  as  long  as  possible.  The 


3° 


SOUTH  AMERICAN  GAMES. 


player  who  keeps  the  ball  in  the  air,  between  his  hand  and  the 
wall,  the  longest  time,  wins.  Grown  men  play  hand-ball,  and 
have  courts  built  for  the  purpose. 

Tennis  is  as  common  as  in  this  country.  Once  in  Santiago, 
Chile,  I  called  at  the  house  of  a  Presbyterian  missionary,  and 


was  told  that  he  could  be  found  in  Cousino  Park.  I  followed 
him  there,  and  discovered  him  engaged  with  the  principal  of 
a  mission  school  and  a  party  of  ladies  playing  tennis  on  the 
lawn. 

The  South  Americans  do  not  play  ' '  tenpins  ' '  with  ten 
pins,  but  with  three.  The  centre  pin,  or  king,  as  they  term 
it,  counts  twelve  if  it  is  knocked  down,  and  the  others  six 
each.  The  game  is  called  "  Bollo."  A  game  peculiar  to 
Central  America  is  "Cereas."  A  bowl  is  made  of  beeswax 
with  a  convex  bottom,  and  balls  of  beeswax  are  thrown  to 
knock  it  down.    Quoits  are  common,  and  "  duck  and  drake," 


SOUTH  AMERICAN  GAMKS. 


31 


which  is  played  with  stones,  as  it  is  in  this  country.  The  kite 
is  a  popular  toy  all  over  Central  and  South  America,  even 
more  popular  than  in  the  United  States,  and  is  called  "El 
Cometa," — the  comet.  Some  of  the  kites  are  made  as  ours 
are,  but  others  are  peculiar.  The 
shape  is  usually  a  hexagon,  the  sticks 
are  bamboo,  and  the  covering  tissue- 
paper.  When  a  boy  wants  to  show 
his  artistic  taste,  he  ornaments  his 
kite  with  a  fringe  of  tissue-paper 
around  the  bottom,  as  is  shown  in  the 
accompanying  sketch  ;  and  if  he  be 
musical  he  extends  the  sticks  above 
the  paper  at  the  top  and  stretches 
across  them  strips  of  hide,  which  in  a 
strong  breeze  give  a  beautiful  sound 
like  an  iEolian  harp. 

A  musical  chord  can  be  made  by 
loosening  or  tightening  the  strings, 
as  shown  in  the  illustration.  The 
surface  of  the  kite  is  often  painted  to 
represent  the  face  of  a  man,  when 
the  fringe  around  the  sides  has  the 
appearance  of  a  beard,  and  is  trimmed 
accordingly. 

Sometimes  a  tin  knife  cut  in  the 
shape  of  a  crescent,  with  the  inner 
edge  sharpened,  is  attached  to  the  tail,  and  the  boy  who  is 
flying  it  tries  to  cut  the  strings  of  other  kites  that  happen  to 
be  in  the  air  around  his.  A  good  deal  of  skill  is  often  shown 
in  attacking  or  in  escaping  from  these  "  pirates,"  as  the  knife- 
tail  kites  are  called. 

A  popular  game  that  is  played  both  indoors  and  out  is 
called  "  Tanganillo  y  Chito,"  the  prop  and  the  money.  A 
ring  is  drawn  upon  the  floor  or  upon  the  ground,  about  a  yard 
in  diameter,  and  a  section  of  a  broomstick  or  bamboo,  twelve 
or  eighteen  inches  long,  is  set  up  in  the  centre,  with  a  penny 


32 


SOUTH  AMERICAN  GAMES. 


or  any  other  coin  on  the  top.  The  players  stand  off  a  certain 
distance,  and  by  throwing  pennies  endeavor  to  knock  the  coin 
from  the  top  of  the  stick.  If  it  falls  within  the  ring  the  player 
loses  and  forfeits  a  penny.    If  it  falls  without  the  ring  it  is  his. 

"  La  Tira,  la  Eloja,"  can  only  be  translated,  "to  jerk,  to 
slacken."  It  is  played  with  a  large  napkin,  or  a  small  sheet, 
or  a  table-cloth.  Four  persons  hold  the  corners  tightly  in 
their  fingers,  and  a  fifth,  who  is  called  "  the  director,"  stands 
by.  He  gives  orders  in  rapid  succession,  but  the  players  are 
expected  to  do  exactly  contrary  to  his  commands.  For 
example,  when  he  shouts,  "Jerk  !  "  they  are  to  slacken  and 
let  the  sheet  hang  loosely  between  them.  When  he  shouts, 
"Slacken!  "  they  are  to  jerk  and  hold  the  sheet  taut  until 
the  next  order  is  heard.  When  a  player  obeys  orders  instead 
of  violating  them  he  is  required  to  pay  a  forfeit,  and  some 
other  member  of  the  party  steps  up  to  take  his  place. 

It  will  be  discovered  that  the  natural  inclination  of  the 
human  will  is  to  submit ;  and  only  one  who  has  great  self- 
control  can  remain  long  at  the  sheet. 

The  last  one  acts  as  judge,  and  like  the  goddess  of  justice 
is  blindfolded.  Then  the  fun  is  renewed,  for  as  the  forfeits 
are  held  up  one  by  one  before  him,  he  is  to  pronounce  the 
penalty  without  knowing  whether  the  owner  is  young  or  old, 
male  or  female.  He  may  require  some  venerable  patriarch  to 
squeal  like  a  pig  or  go  around  the  room  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  or  some  child  of  six  to  deliver  an  oration. 


W.  K.  Curtis. 


A  Young  and  Growing  Mountain. 


Down  on  the  coast  of  Central  America,  in  the  little 
Republic  of  Salvador,  so  near  the  ocean  that  it  may  be  seen 
from  the  decks  of  passing  ships,  is  a  mountain  that  grows. 

There  is  another  remarkable  fact  about  Izalco,  as  the 
mountain  is  called,  for  it  is  not  only  increasing  in  height  all 
the  time,  but  it  is  the  most  violent  and  constant  of  all 
volcanoes.  Every  little  while,  from  one  year's  end  to  the 
other,  it  spouts  vast  quantities  of  fire,  lava  and  ashes,  which 
fall  in  a  shower,  and  wrap  its  sides  for  a  thousand  feet  below 
the  summit  with  a  blanket  of  living  coals. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  grander  spectacle  than  is 
presented  at  night  to  the  passengers  upon  ships  that  go  that 
way.  No  one  goes  to  bed  on  the  steamer  till  the  mountain  is 
out  of  sight.  Travellers  go  a  long  distance  to  see  it,  and  are 
always  willing  to  admit  that  the  journey  repaid  them. 

The  mountain  rises  nearly  seven  thousand  feet,  and  as  its 
base  is  almost  in  the  sea  it  looks  much  higher.  An  immense 
plume  of  smoke  ascends  from  the  crater.  The  incessant 
bursts  of  flame,  mounting  five  hundred  feet  every  little  while, 
can  be  seen  for  more  than  a  hundred  miles  in  clear  weather. 
The  mountain  has  been  called  1 '  the  lighthouse  of  Salvador, ' ' 
and  the  shipping  on  the  coast  needs  no  other  beacon  so  far  as 
the  mountain  can  be  seen. 

Around  the  base  of  the  volcano  are  productive  sugar 
plantations,  with  a  railway  running  through  them.  Then 
comes  a  wide  strip  of  timber — an  almost  impenetrable  forest, 
whose  foliage  is  perpetual  and  of  the  darkest  green.  Beyond 
the  forest,  and  between  the  timber  line  and  the  summit,  is  a 
belt  of  ashes  and  lava  which  is  constantly  receiving  accessions 
from  the  crater,  and  every  few  minutes  changes  from  a  livid 
yellow,  when  the  ashes  are  hot,  to  a  silver-gray,  as  they  begin 
to  cool. 


34 


A  YOUNG  AND  GROWING  MOUNTAIN. 


At  night  the  effect  is  very  fine.  At  each  eruption  there  is 
a  violent  explosion,  like  the  discharge  of  a  thousand  cannon, 
and  afterward  a  terrible  rumbling  is  heard  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  earth. 

Izalco  arose  suddenly  from  a  plain  in  the  spring  of  1770,  in 
the  midst  of  what  had  been  for  nearly  a  hundred  years  a 
profitable  sugar  plantation.  The  owner,  Don  Balthazar  Krazo, 
was  absent  on  a  visit  to  Spain  at  the  time,  and  was  greatly 
amazed  on  his  return  to  discover  that  his  farm  had  been 
exchanged,  without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  for  a  first-class 
volcano. 

It  was  in  December,  1769,  that  the  peons  on  the  plantation 
first  noticed  that  something  was  wrong  underneath.  Although 
they  were  accustomed  to  "tremblors,"  as  slight  earthquakes 
are  called,  they  became  frightened  at  the  unusual  rumblings 
and  growlings  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  They  decided  to 
leave  the  place,  and  got  away  not  a  moment  too  soon.  A  few 
days  later,  when  some  of  the  most  venturesome  went  back  to 
see  how  the  animals  were  getting  on,  they  discovered  that  all 
the  buildings  had  been  destroyed,  that  great  trees  had  been 
uprooted  and  large  craters  had  opened  in  the  fields,  from 
which  came  smoke  and  flames,  but  apparently  there  had  been 
no  great  eruption  as  yet. 

A  party  of  shepherds,  braver  than  the  rest,  decided  to 
remain  in  the  neighborhood  and  await  developments  ;  and  on 
the  23d  of  February,  1770,  they  were  entertained  by  a 
spectacle  that  perhaps  no  other  men  were  ever  permitted  to 
witness  —  the  birth  of  a  mountain.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  as  they  afterward  said,  when  the  grand 
upheaval  took  place. 

First  came  a  series  of  terrific  explosions  which  lifted  the 
crust  of  the  earth  in  a  pile  several  hundred  feet  high,  and 
from  the  opening  issued  flames  and  lava,  with  masses  of 
smoke. 

An  hour  or  two  after  there  was  another  and  a  grander 
convulsion,  which  shook  the  country  for  hundreds  of  miles 
around,  and  did  great  damage  in  the  neighboring  towns. 


A  YOUNG  AND  GROWING  MOUNTAIN. 


35 


Rocks  weighing  thousands  of  tons  were  lifted  high  in  the 
air,  and  fell  several  miles  distant.  The  surface  of  the  earth 
bulged  up  nearly  three  thousand  feet,  and  vast  masses  of 
rocks  were  piled  up  around  the  crater  from  which  they  issued. 

These  terrible  earthquakes  continued  for  several  days, 
and  great  damage  was  done  in  the  neighboring  States  of 
Nicaragua  and  Honduras,  as  well  as  in  San  Salvador. 

The  volcano  was  a  healthy  and  vigorous  child.  In  less 
than  two  months,  from  a  level  field  arose  a  mountain  more 
than  four  thousand  feet  high.  The  discharges  from  the 
crater  from  that  time  to  this  have  accumulated  around  the 
edges  until  the  pile  has  reached  nearly  seven  thousand  feet, 
and  it  is  still  growing.  Unfortunately  the  growth  of  the 
monster  has  not  been  scientifically  observed  or  accurately 
measured.  It  would  be  difficult  to  measure  it,  for  the  surface 
of  the  cone,  down  to  two  thousand  feet  from  the  summit,  is 
always  covered  with  hot  lava  over  which  no  man  could  climb, 
and  the  fumes  of  sulphur  would  suffocate  one  if  the  heat  could 
be  endured. 

Within  view  of  the  city  of  San  Salvador  are  eleven  great 
volcanoes,  one  other  beside  Izalco  being  constantly  active, 
while  the  others  are  subject  to  occasional  eruptions. 

The  nearest  peak  is  the  Mountain  of  San  Salvador,  which 
is  about  eight  thousand  feet  high  and  shows  to  great  advantage 
as  it  rises  abruptly  from  the  plain.  It  is  only  three  miles 
from  the  city  to  the  base  of  the  mountain,  but  the  sides  are  so 
broken  by  monstrous  gorges  and  projecting  cliffs  that  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  climb  it. 

The  summit  is  crowned  by  a  cone  of  ashes  and  lava  that 
fell  there  centuries  ago  ;  but  since  the  spring  of  1854,  when 
the  most  serious  earthquake  the  country  has  known  took 
place,  the  crater  has  been  extinct,  and  is  now  filled  with  a 
lake  of  clear,  cold  water. 

Lying  to  the  seaward  of  the  volcanoes,  and  not  far  from 
the  city  of  San  Salvador,  is  a  forest  of  balsam-trees  about  six 
hundred  square  miles  in  extent,  which  is  inhabited  by  a 
curious  race  of  Indians.    These  people  are  little  altered  from 


36 


A  YOUNG  AND  GROWING  MOUNTAIN. 


their  primitive  condition,  and  are  permitted  to  remain  there 
undisturbed  and  enjoy  the  profits  derived  from  the  sale  of 
balsam. 

The  forest  is  full  of  foot-paths  which  are  so  intricate  as  to 
baffle  strangers  who  try  to  enter,  and  it  is  not  safe  to  make  the 


The  Volcano  of  Izalco. 


attempt,  as  the  Indians,  peaceable  enough  when  they  come 
out  to  mingle  with  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  country, 
violently  resent  any  intrusion  into  their  stronghold.  They 
keep  their  common  earnings  in  a  treasure-box,  to  be  distributed 
by  the  old  men  among  the  families  as  their  necessities  require. 
There  is  a  prevailing  impression  that  the  tribe  has  an 


A  YOUNG  AND  GROWING  MOUNTAIN. 


37 


enormous  sum  of  money  in  its  possession,  since  its  earnings 
are  large  and  the  wants  of  the  people  are  few.  The  surplus 
existing  at  the  end  of  each  year  is  supposed  to  be  buried  in  a 
sacred  spot  with  religious  ceremonies.  These  Indians,  who 
are  temperate  and  industrious,  are  known  to  history  as  the 
Nahuatls,  but  are  commonly  spoken  of  as  "  Balsimos." 

Although  San  Salvador  is  the  smallest  in  area  of  the  group 
of  Central  American  Republics,  and  smaller  than  Massachu- 
setts, it  is  the  most  prosperous,  the  most  enterprising  and  the 
most  densely  populated,  having  about  as  many  inhabitants  as 
Connecticut.  The  natives  are  engaged  not  only  in  agriculture, 
but  quite  extensively  in  manufactures. 

They  are  more  energetic  and  industrious  than  the  people 
in  other  parts  of  Central  America,  and  gain  wealth  rapidly  ; 
but  the  constantly  recurring  earthquakes  and  political  disturb- 
ances keep  the  country  poor. 

San  Salvador  has  always  taken  the  lead  in  the  political 
affairs  of  Central  America.  It  was  the  first  to  throw  off  the 
yoke  of  Spain.  After  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  gain 
independence,  the  Salvadorian  Congress,  by  an  act  passed  on 
the  2d  of  December,  1822,  resolved  to  annex  the  little  province 
to  the  United  States,  and  provided  for  the  appointment  of 
commissioners  to  proceed  to  Washington  and  ask  its  incorpo- 
ration in  the  great  republic. 

Before  the  commissioners  could  leave  the  country  the 
revolutions  in  the  other  Central  American  States  had  become 
too  formidable  to  suppress.  The  five  states  joined  in  a 
confederacy  one  year  after  the  act  of  annexation  to  the  United 
States  was  passed,  and  the  resolution  was  never  officially 
submitted  to  our  government. 

W.  E.  Curtis. 


« 


In  the  Grand  Plaza  of  Mexico 

Here  stood  Montezuma's  mighty  temple  to  the  Sun.  Much 
allowance  must  be  made,  of  course,  for  the  vivid  imaginations 
of  the  Spanish  historians  in  the  romantic  days  of  the  discovery 
and  conquest  of  the  New  World ;  but  even  to  this  day,  and 
right  here  on  and  about  the  great  plaza  you  see  unim- 
peachable testimony  to  this  heathen  temple's  storied  splendor. 

This  grand  plaza  is  still,  as  it  was  when  Cortez  first  entered 
it  as  the  invited  guest  of  the  great  Indian  city,  the  heart  of 
Mexico.  The  palace  built,  or  rather  begun,  by  Cortez,  stands 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  great  square.  This  palace  is  the 
largest  in  the  world.  It  is  not  the  finest  palace  in  the  world, 
but  it  is  the  broadest ;  covering  more  acres  of  ground  than  an}' 
other  palace  or  public  building  of  any  sort  that  I  have  seen  in 
all  my  travels.  It  is  a  low  and  ugly  edifice,  and  is  built  foi 
the  most  part  out  of  the  stones  of  the  overthrown  temple  to 
the  Sun. 

Every  Monday  morning  all  Mexico,  or  at  least  all  the  idle 
and  curious  and  pleasure-seeking  portion  of  Mexico,  and  that 
is  a  large  portion  of  the  citizens,  comes  to  this  plaza  to  hear 
the  band  play  and  see  the  troops  deploy  before  the  palace. 
The  president  and  his  officers,  all  in  brilliant  uniforms,  sit  or 
stand  on  the  upper  balcony  of  the  palace,  and  review  the 
troops.  There  are  always  many  ladies  with  the  president  and 
his  officers, — many  of  them  American  ladies, —  and  there  is 
often  much  cheering  and  patriotic  enthusiasm.  The  music  is 
very  good,  as  in  all  Latin  lands. 

The  Mexican  soldier,  as  seen  here  at  these  costume  parades, 
is  a  queer,  pitiful  little  fellow,  and  he  is  still  more  queer  and 
pitiful  as  you  see  him  out  of  the  city  marching  up  and  down 
the  country. 

It  is  the  policy  of  Mexico  to  keep  her  soldiers  constantly 
moving  about.    And  as  the  Mexican  soldier  nearly  always  has 


IN  THE  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO. 


his  wife  and  children  with  him,  he  cuts  a  queer  figure  when 
marching  up  and  down  the  country  from  town  to  town.  At 
such  times  he  is  always  barefooted  ;  and  at  best,  he  has,  as  a 
rule,  only  wooden  sandals  to  wear.    When  marching  in  the 

country  he  gener- 


ally has  his  pan- 
taloons and  coat 
rolled  up  and  tied 
in  a  bundle  along 
with  his  blanket 
and  provisions. 
His  bundle  the 
wife  generally  has 
on  her  head  as 
she  trots  along  at 
his  side. 

The  poor  little 
brown  soldier,  his 
naked  skin  glis- 
tening like  pol- 
ished copper  in 
the  sun,  nearly 
always  has  a  child 
in  his  arms.  Their 


affection  for  their 

little  brown  children  is  beautiful,  indeed.  I  have  often  seen  a 
barefooted  soldier  struggling  along  with  a  whole  little  family — 
except  the  wife  —  in  his  arms  or  on  his  back.  As  night 
approaches  and  the  troops  are  nearing  the  place  to  camp,  the 
women  go  on  before  with  their  burdens  on  their  heads  and 
their  babies  on  their  backs,  and  make  fires  and  prepare  the 
scanty  meal ;  while  the  poor  little  brown  soldiers  trim  up  their 
irregular  lines  a  bit,  and  enter  camp  with  a  show  of  discipline 
under  the  sharp  orders  of  the  handsome  officers. 

When  the  bands  play  in  the  grand  plaza  and  the  troops 
deploy,  and  the  glistening  brass  cannon  rumble  and  trundle 
over  the  big  cobblestones,  you  see  thousands  of  women  and 


The  Cathedral  of  Mexico. 


in  the:  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO. 


4f 


children  on  the  edge  of  the  square  watching  it  all  with  intense 
delight.  For  to  many  of  them  this  is  their -first  glimpse  of  the 
great  palace,  and  the  president  of  Mexico. 

After  an  hour  of  rather  awkward  parade  over  the  ugly 
cobblestones  and  under  the  eye  of  the  president,  one  regiment 
after  another  is  permitted  to  melt  away,  and  drop  out  in  a 
"  go  as  you  please  "  march  again  for  the  country. 

Ah,  then  you  should  see  the  wives,  the  babies  who  have 
been  noting  the  brave  soldiers  all  this  time  !  They  struggle 
forward,  they  clasp  husband,  father  by  the  neck,  hand,  any- 
where that  they  can  get  hold  of  him.  They  praise  his  beauty 
and  his  soldierly  bearing,  they  insist  on  carrying  his  gun, 
they  kiss  him  over  and  over  again  ;  and  he  is  glad  ;  he  is  very 
glad.  He  sheds  tears  of  joy  as  he  trudges  on  toward  one  of 
the  seven  gates  of  the  city. 

Now  and  then  he  stops,  catches  up  a  half-naked  child, 
presses  it  to  his  heart,  kisses  it  over  and  over  again  ;  and  only 
sets  its  little  naked  brown  feet  again  on  the  ground  in  order 
to  take  up  another  one  of  his  miserable  little  children,  and 
embrace  it  also. 

All  these  soldiers  are  very,  very  small  men.  I  have  often 
seen  them  fairly  stagger  under  the  weight  of  their  big,  ugly 
muskets  as  they  panted  and  perspired  under  a  hot  day's  march 
in  the  country.  At  such  times  the  little  children  lie  thick 
along  the  line  of  march  under  cactus  plants  and  in  the  shadow 
of  stone  walls,  nearly  dead  from  exhaustion,  waiting  for  the 
poor,  tired  father  to  come  back  from  the  end  of  the  day's 
march  and  take  the  little  starved  things  to  his  heart. 

The  one  special  object  of  interest  here  by  this  storied  plaza 
of  Mexico  City,  after  the  palace,  is  the  cathedral.  It  stands 
on  the  north  side  of  the  square  facing  the  sun,  as  did  the  great 
heathen  temple  from  the  ruins  of  which  it  was  built.  This  is 
the  richest  place  of  worship  in  the  world,  that  is  to  say,  it  has 
more  gold  and  silver  in  and  about  its  altars  and  sacred  places 
than  any  other  like  place  now  to  be  found  on  earth,  if  we  are 
to  believe  our  eyes. 

And  yet  you  hear  it  whispered  that  the  great  silver  rails 


IN  THE  GRAND  PI^AZA  OF  MKXICO. 


43 


around  the  altars  here,  as  well  as  at  the  other  rich  church  a 
league  distant,  are  no  longer  solid  silver  ;  that  the  lofty  golden 
candlesticks  are  no  longer  solid  gold.  But  of  this  no  one  can 
say  certainly  except,  perhaps,  the  few  great  dignitaries  at  the 
head  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Mexico. 

The  music  is  fine  here,  certainly  the  finest  of  its  kind  in 
America.  But  the  place  is  dirty  and  damp  and  gloomy  from 
one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other.  A  dozen  or  more  deformed 
and  repulsive  creatures  creep  about  the  doors  over  the  dirty 
stones,  and  implore  you  as  you  pass  in  to  buy  lottery  tickets 
which  they  crumple  in  their  dirty  hands.  You  are  not  asked 
for  any  money,  but  there  are  plenty  of  little  boxes  tacked  up 
here  and  there  for  the  reception  of  whatever  you  may  please 
to  bestow. 

There  are  many  rare  and  costly  pictures  here  in  this 
glorious  old  cathedral ;  and  yet  the  real  pictures  of  Mexico, 
the  pretty  ones,  the  pathetic  ones,  the  pictures  that  make  you 
put  your  handkerchief  to  your  eyes  a  dozen  times  a  day  are 
people  themselves.  How  loving  they  are  !  How  true  they 
are  to  one  another  in  all  their  misery,  all  their  abject  ignorance 
and  most  piteous  poverty  ! 

There  is  a  little  flower-garden  and  some  great  trees  in  the 
centre  of  the  grand  plaza,  and  here  late  in  the  afternoon  the 
band  plays,  and  the  fashionable  people  congregate. 

You  should  see  the  little  brown  gardener  in  broad  hat 
and  narrow  white  breechcloth  at  work  in  the  flower-garden 
here  in  the  grand  plaza  of  Mexico  City  !  You  should  see  him 
mow  the  lawn.  And  how  does  he  do  it?  Why,  in  the  first 
place  he  squats  flat  down  on  his  naked  heels,  and  then  he 
hitches  himself  along  as  fast  as  he  cuts  away  the  grass,  without 
rising  up  or  even  lifting  his  head  from  his  work.  And  what 
does  he  mow  with  ?  Why,  a  little  piece  of  glass  or  rather  of 
obsidian,  the  same  as  he  used  when  Cortez  came. 

In  digging  up  the  stump  of  a  eucalyptus-tree  here  last 
winter  the  gardener  came  to  a  stone  which  proved  to  be  a 
huge  and  hideous  idol.  The  government  claims  all  such 
discoveries,  and  in  excavating  this  idol  for  the  fine  museum  in 


44 


IN  THE  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO. 


the  palace,  two  others  were  found.  They  weigh  perhaps  a 
ton  each,  and  had  long  ago  been  tumbled  down  here,  no  doubt, 
by  the  Spaniards  when  they  destroyed  the  temple  to  the  Sun. 
It  is  said  that  many  rare  and  curious  things,  as  well  as  much 
gold  and  silver,  are  still  buried  here  on  the  site  of  the  pagan 
temple,  but  only  the  impoverished  .  government  can  make 
excavations. 

I  have  now  described  the  eastern  and  the  northern  sides 
of  the  great  square,  the  palace  and  the  cathedral.  The  other 
two  sides  are  made  up  entirely  of  broad  porches.  These 
porches  reach  out  from  fashionable  stores  and  fine  shops  of  all 
sorts,  and  are  turned  into  little  booths  or  bazaars  by  day  and 
on  till  midnight.  But,  curious  to  tell,  at  and  from  the  moment 
of  midnight  the  porches  belong  to  the  people  till  sunrise  ! 

A  little  before  midnight  those  pretty  little  shops  that  blaze 
and  brighten  all  day  and  till  late  at  night  begin  to  melt  away. 
The  Arab,  the  Turk,  the  Frenchman,  the  German,  all  sorts  of 
storekeepers  fold  up  their  tents,  and  suddenly  start  out,  as 
the  little  half-nude  and  helpless  children  of  the  sun  steal  in 
and  lie  down  to  rest  on  the  hard  stones  of  this  half-mile  of 
porches. 

Till  three  in  the  morning  when  the  sudden  sun  comes 
pouring  over  the  low  palace  like  a  silver  sea,  and  flooding 
their  faces  !  They  spring  to  their  feet  on  the  instant ;  they 
pour  forth  into  the  plaza  in  torrents  ;  one,  two,  ten  thousand 
people  with  their  kindly  copper  faces  lifted  to  the  sun  !  They 
gather  about  the  laughing  fountains  in  the  broad  plaza,  they 
laugh  with  the  laughing  water  as  they  plunge  their  arms  or 
their  heads  into  flowing  pools. 

All  the  street-cars,  more  than  a  dozen  lines  of  them,  start 
from  the  grand  plaza  here,  and  never  stop  their  gallop  till  they 
come  to  a  station. 

There  is  one  very  new  and  #yet  very  solemn-looking  and 
curious  street-car  starts  here.  It  has  a  huge,  black  cross  over 
its  one  broad,  black  platform,  and  is  called  "the  car  of  the 
dead."  The  once  long  and  dreary  processions  of  priests  for 
the  dead  are  allowed  no  longer  here.    You  go  to  your  grave 


IN  THE  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO. 


45 


by  street-car  in  Mexico  City  now.  This  car  starts  every  hour, 
and  from  the  number  of  those  who  go  out,  but  come  not  back, 
by  this  car,  you  would  say  that  Mexico  is  a  sickly  city.  But 
it  is  not  so  sickly  as  it  seems.  For  in  the  first  place  all  the 
dead,  as  a  rule,  are  buried  from  this  presence  of  the  cathedral  ; 
and  in  the  second  place  there  are  almost  always  two  coffins  to 
one  corpse.  One  of  these  coffins  holds  the  dead,  the  other 
holds  flowers  which  are  to  be  emptied  upon  the  dead  when  in 
the  grave. 

How  this  seems  to  soften  the  whole  hard  fact  of  the  funeral ! 
One  coffin  holds  beautiful  sweet  flowers  ;  one  —  and  you  can't 
guess  which  one  — holds  the  dead. 

The  poor  people  here  —  and  they  are,  at  least,  nine  to 
one  —  take  all  their  dead  to  the  grave  on  their  backs.  But 
they  also  always  have  the  two  coffins,  and  they  also  always 
come  by  way  of  the  cathedral  when  on  their  way  to  the  grave. 
There  is  a  whole  street  close  by  the  cathedral  with  nothing  but 
coffins  in  it ;  but  they  are  not  all  of  them  black  and  sombre. 
Some  are  a  bright  red,  some  are  brilliant  with  painted  roses, 
some  are  curiously  marked  by  queer  figure-paintings,  and 
look  like  Egyptian  work. 

The  poor  never  bury  the  coffin  with  the  dead,  it  is  always 
brought  back,  along  with  the  narrow  little  box  that  was  filled 
with  roses.  There  are  professional  carriers  for  these  occasions 
called  "  cargadaro."  They  sit  around  the  grand  plaza  in 
dozens  with  little  ropes  in  a  girdle  at  the  side.  They  always 
go  in  a  trot,  as  if  the  dead  had  whispered,  "  Hurry  up  !  I 
want  to  get  out  of  this  and  rest  in  my  bed  of  roses  !  ' ' 


Joaquin  Miller. 


The  Boys  of  Mexico. 


The  Mexican  boy  has  plenty  of  play,  though  he  cares  little 
for  hoops  or  balls,  tops,  kites  or  marbles.  Unless  he  is 
unusually  poor  he  has  a  horse  and  saddle  of  his  own, 
especially  if  he  lives  in  the  country  ;  and  no  matter  how  poor 
he  may  be,  he  either  has  a  donkey  or  can  borrow  one  in  five 
minutes. 

He  often  learns  to  ride  when  he  is  so  small  that  he  has  to 
climb  up  the  fore  leg  of  the  horse,  pull  himself  up  by  his  mane, 
swing  one  leg  over  the  neck  of  the  horse  and  then  slide  down 
on  its  back.  He  soon  learns  to  reach  down  from  the  saddle 
and  pick  up  things  from  the  ground  while  the  horse  is  in 
motion. 

One  day,  starting  out  to  shoot  ducks  in  the  State  of 
Durango,  I  was  followed  by  a  native  boy  about  seven  years 
old  on  horseback,  who  went  to  pick  up  the  game.  . 

It  was  almost  as  much  sport  to  see  him  get  the  ducks  as  it 
was  to  shoot  them.  Through  mud,  water,  brush,  and  among 
rocks,  he  rode  at  a  gallop  with  about  equal  ease,  always 
reaching  down  from  the  saddle  to  pick  up  a  duck,  and  coming 
back  with  it  like  the  wind. 

Sometimes  when  the  water  was  very  deep  he  made  his 
horse  swim  out  to  the  duck  ;  and  if  the  mud  were  too  deep 
along  the  edge  of  the  pond  he  threw  his  lasso  over  the  duck 
out  in  the  water,  and  pulled  it  in  to  where  he  could  reach  it 
without  getting  his  horse  fast  in  the  mud. 

Learning  to  ride  so  early,  and  spending  much  of  his  time 
on  the  horse,  the  Mexican  boy  becomes  a  wonderful  rider. 
He  would  not  make  a  very  graceful  appearance  in  Central 
Park  in  New  York,  but  there  is  no  monkey  in  the  museum 
there  that  can  cling  to  a  prancing  horse  more  firmly  than  he 
can.  And  yet  generally  he  rides  without  clinging  at  all.  He 
does  not  press  the  horse  with  his  knees  or  legs,  but  maintains 


THE  BOYS  OF  MEXICO. 


47 


his  position  simply  by  keeping  his  balance.  The  most 
common  plaything  of  the  boy  of  Mexico,  and  the  one  he 
enjoys  above  all  else,  is  the  lasso,  or  riata.  It  takes  the  place 
of  pea-shooters,  popguns,  slings,  bows  and  arrows,  and  nearly 
all  else  but  the  horse,  and  is  a  plaything  of  which  he  seldom 
tires. 

He  begins  to  throw  his  mother's  clothes-line  as  soon  as  he 
is  able  to  make  a  noose  in  the  end  of  it  and  coil  it.  With  this 
he  practises  until  he  can  throw  it  quite  easily  over  a  post,  or 
the  head  of  his  younger  brother.  As  soon  as  he  begins  to  tire 
of  this,  for  the  reason  that  it  does  not  show  enough  skill,  he 
tries  to  catch  the  domestic  animals  as  they  run.  To  do  this 
well  requires  a  great  deal  of  practice  ;  but  at  last  he  becomes 
so  skilful  that  he  can  cast  the  noose  over  any  foot  of  an  animal 
in  full  run,  and  soon  afterward  learns  to  do  the  same  from  the 
back  of  a  horse  while  in  full  gallop. 

Most  of  his  early  practice  is  upon  the  dog  or  cat,  or  some 
member  of  the  family,  or  upon  the  goat  or  pig  in  the  yard. 
Very  soon  the  dogs  and  donkeys  in  the  street  begin  to  suffer  , 
but  when  donkeys  are  scarce,  and  the  dogs  have  all  taken  to 
their  holes,  the  boys  practise  upon  one  another,  taking  turns 
in  running  past  their  comrades,  and  trying  in  all  possible 
ways  to  avoid  the  noose  with  their  feet. 

Many  of  the  dogs  in  Mexico  have  been  lassoed  so  often 
that  they  will  run  for  cover  at  the  sight  of  a  rope  in  a  boy's 
hands  ;  while  others  have  become  so  hardened  that  they  will 
stand  and  watch  the  rope  with  cool  indifference,  and  spoil  the 
boy's  fun  by  not  running  at  all. 

This  is  a  harmless  amusement,  for  the  rope  is  so  light  that 
it  does  not  hurt,  and  animals  learn  to  stop  the  moment  the 
rope  is  fast  around  them.  It  is  an  amusement  that  might  well 
be  practised,  under  proper  guidance,  by  boys  in  our  own 
country  ;  for  the  ability  to  coil  a  rope,  and  cast  a  noose  over 
an  object  forty  feet  away  in  less  than  half  a  minute,  is  an 
accomplishment  that  may  be  useful  in  many  ways  before  one  is 
done  with  this  world. 

Mexican  children  are  very  seldom  rude  or  saucy.  They 


48 


THE  BOYS  OF  MEXICO. 


are  taught  to  be  polite  under  all  circumstances  and  to  all 
people.  Some  parents  would  rather  have  their  boy  be  almost 
anything  else  than  a  "grosero,"  or  rude  person.  For  this 
reason  one  hears  little  quarrelling  or  rough  talk  among  children 
playing,  and  sees  hardly  any  fighting  or  bullying  of  little  boys 
by  larger  ones. 

For  the  same  reason  Mexican  boys  are  not  as  mischievous 
in  many  ways  as  the  children  of  some  other  countries.  The 
glass  would  stay  for  years  in  the  windows  of  an  empty  house  in 
Mexico,  and  one  is  never  in  danger  of  being  tripped  by  a 
string  stretched  across  the  pavement. 

Many  of  the  children  brought  up  away  from  the  cities  in 
Mexico  never  go  to  school,  and  never  learn  to  read  or  write. 
On  the  great  farms,  or  "haciendas,"  thousands  of  children 
are  born,  grow  old  and  die  without  seeing  or  knowing 
anything  of  the  great  outside  world.  Some  of  these  farms  are 
larger  than  certain  whole  counties  in  the  United  States,  and 
some  of  them  have  hundreds  of  laborers,  all  of  whom,  from 
father  to  son,  are  born,  live  and  die  on  the  same  farm. 


T.  S.  VanDyke. 


The  Sea  of  the  Discovery. 


The  Bahama  Sea  is  perhaps  the  m  most  beautiful  of  all 
waters.    Columbus  beheld  it  and  its  islands  with  a  poet's  eye. 

"  It  only  needed  the  singing  of  the  nightingale,"  said  the 
joyful  mariner,  ' '  to  make  it  like  Andalusia  in  April ;  ' '  and  to 
his  mind  Andalusia  was  the  loveliest  place  on  earth.  In 
sailing  among  these  gardens  of  the  seas  in  the  serene  and 
transparent  autumn  days  after  the  great  discovery,  the  soul  of 
Columbus  was  at  times  overwhelmed  and  entranced  by  a 
sense  of  the  beauty  of  everything  in  it  and  about  it.  Life 
seemed,  as  it  were,  a  spiritual  vision. 

"I  know  not,"  said  the  discoverer,  "where  first  to  go; 
nor  are  my  eyes  ever  weary  of  gazing  on  the  beautiful  verdure. 
The  singing  of  the  birds  is  such  that  it  seems  as  if  one  would 
never  desire  to  depart  hence." 

He  speaks  in  a  poet's  phrases  of  the  odorous  trees,  and  of 
the  clouds  of  parrots  whose  bright  wings  obscured  the  sun. 
His  descriptions  of  the  sea  and  its  gardens  are  full  of  glowing 
and  sympathetic  colorings,  and  all  things  to  him  had  a 
spiritual  meaning. 

"  God,"  he  said,  on  reviewing  his  first  voyage  over  these 
Western  waters,  "God  made  me  the  messenger  of  the  new 
heavens  and  earth,  and  told  me  where  to  find  them.  Charts, 
maps  and  mathematical  knowledge  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  case." 

On  announcing  his  discovery  on  his  return,  he  breaks 
forth  into  the  following  highly  poetic  exhortation  :  ' '  Let 
processions  be  formed,  let  festivals  be  held,  let  lauds  be  sung. 
Let  Christ  rejoice  on  earth  !  " 

Columbus  was  a  student  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poets,  and 
of  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  The  visions  of  Isaiah 
were  familiar  to  him,  and  he  thought  that  Isaiah  himself  at 
one  time  appeared  to  him  in  a  vision.    He  loved  nature.  To 


5Q 


THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY. 


him  the  outer  world  was  a  garment  of  the  Invisible  ;  and  it 
was  before  his  great  soul  had  suffered  disappointment  that  he 
saw  the  sun-flooded  waters  of  the  Bahama  Sea  and  the  purple 


splendors  of  the  Antilles.  There  is  scarcely  an  adjective  in 
the  picturesque  report  of  Columbus  in  regard  to  this  sea  and 
these  islands  that  is  not  now  as  appropriate  and  fitting  as  in  the 
days  when  its  glowing  words  delighted  Isabella  four  hundred 
years  ago. 

I  recently  passed  from  the  sea  of  Watling's  Island,  the 


THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY. 


51 


probable  "  San  Salvador,"  to  the  point  of  Cuba  discovered  on 
the  28th  of  October,  1492,  and  to  the  coast  of  Haiti,  the 
Hispaniola  of  Columbus,  and  the  scene  of  the  first  settlement 
in  the  New  World.  I  had  studied  the  descriptions  of 
Columbus,  and  almost  every  hour  of  the  voyage  brought  them 
to  mind  like  so  many  pictures. 

Watling's  Island  was  probably  the  first  landfall  of 
Columbus,  and  the  scene  of  the  dramatic  events  of  the 
elevation  of  the  cross,  the  singing  of  the  Te  Deum,  and  the 
unfurling  of  the  banner  of  the  double  crowns  of  Leon  and 
Castile  on  the  red  morning  of  October  12,  1492. 

The  San  Salvador  of  the  old  maps,  or  Cat  Island,  a  place 
now  of  some  four  thousand  inhabitants,  was  not  really  the 
scene  of  Columbus's  landing. 

Watling's  Island  lies  far  out  in  the  sea.  It  is  cooled  by 
waving  palms,  and  is  full  of  singing  birds.  It  has  a  tall 
lighthouse  tower  painted  white,  which  rises  nobly  over  the 
water.  Its  light  can  be  seen  nearly  twenty  miles.  As  one 
sees  it  one  recalls  the  fact  that  no  friendly  light  except  the 
night  fagots  of  the  Indians  guided  the  eye  of  Columbus. 

Watling's  Island  has  a  population  of  less  than  seven 
hundred  souls,  and  is  not  often  visited  by  large  steamers.  I 
secured  some  fine  specimens  of  "sargasso,"  or  gulfweed,  in 
passing  through  this  sea. 

Over  these  waters  continually  drift  fields  of  this  peculiar 
seaweed.  It  is  of  a  bright  yellow  color;  it  shines  brilliantly 
in  the  sun,  and  at  a  distance  presents  a  scene  of  dazzling 
splendor.  The  "berries,"  which  sailors  say  are  poisonous  to 
certain  kinds  of  fish,  are  very  salt.  The  weed  seems  always 
to  move  west  before  the  trade- winds. 

Over  these  fields  of  shining  drift,  land  birds  came  singing 
to  the  ships  of  the  adventurers  ;  and  on  one  of  the  matted  beds 
a  land  crab  appeared  —  a  sure  indication  of  a  near  shore. 

The  crews  of  Columbus  feared  to  enter  the  Sargasso  Sea. 
They  had  been  told  that  in  sailing  west  they  would  come  to  a 
sea  of  monsters,  and  they  feared  that  these  ocean  meadows 
might  cover  hidden  foes  and  perils.    The  peculiar  beauty  of 


52 


THE  SKA  OF  THE  DISCOVER V. 


the  Bahama  Sea  is  its  clearness  and  deep  purple  color.  This 
dark  purple  color  is  said  to  be  the  result  of  the  ' 1  shadow  of 
deep  waters,"  though  whether  this  is  a  scientific  view  I  do  not 
know.    Under  a  cloudless  sky  the  sea  is  luminous  purple. 

A  cloud  shadow  changes  this  royal  hue  into  emerald. 
One  gazes  down  into  deeps  unknown,  and  sees  the  pairs  of 
dolphins  as  clearly  as  the  white-winged  birds  overhead. 
One's  eye  follows  the  flying-fishes  as  clearly  when  they  go 
down  as  when  they  dart  into  the  open  air.  One  here  dreams 
of  coral  gardens,  of  sea-nymphs,  and  recalls  the  ancient  poets' 
conceptions  of  Oceanus  and  Neptune.  All  fancies  seem 
possible  to  the  creative  imagination  here. 

On  the  islands  of  the  Greater  and  L,esser  Antilles,  or  the 
Columbian  Seas,  grow  the  most  abundant  cocoanut  groves  in 
the  world.  The  trees  are  graceful  and  lofty,  and  as  a  rule  are 
slanted  by  the  winds.    They  bear  a  solid  burden  of  fruit. 

' '  I  have  counted  from  forty  to  fifty  cocoanuts  on  a  single 
tree  !  "  I  said  to  an  officer  of  my  steamer,  in  surprise. 

"  I  have  counted  a  hundred,"  was  his  answer. 

It  seems  unaccountable  that  so  slender  a  trunk  can  hold 
aloft  in  the  air  such  a  weight  of  fruit. 

The  nuts  are  not  only  numerous  on  a  single  palm,  but  of 
great  size.  A  single  nut  often  yields  a  pitcher  of  cocoanut 
water,  or  two  goblets,  as  we  might  say.  The  palms  of  all  the 
islands  must  be  as  fruitful  to-day  as  when  the  first  voyagers 
saw  them. 

Columbus  speaks  of  flocks  of  parrots  that  ' '  darkened  the 
sun."  Such  flocks  do  not  appear  now,  but  in  every  port  of 
the  Antilles  there  is  a  parrot  market.  The  natives  love  their 
parrots,  and  the  cool  trees  and  drinking-stands  of  the  parrot 
market  make  a  popular  place  of  resort. 

As  a  rule,  the  birds  are  not  confined  in  cages.  They  are 
left  to  climb  about  on  the  booths  in  which  cocoanut  water  and 
cool  drinks  are  sold.  The  people  extend  their  hands  to  them, 
and  the  birds  walk  into  them  for  the  sake  of  gifts,  caresses  and 
admiration. 

Women  kiss  these  parrots,  and  hold  their  heads  close  to 


THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY.  53 

their  lips  when  talking  to  them.  The  birds  are  usually  jealous 
and  ungrateful,  and  have  but  little  to  commend  them  but  their 
art  of  begging  and  their  beauty. 

Nearly  all  cities  in  Latin  America  have  statues  to  Colon, 
or  Columbus.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  these  is  in  the 
Paseo  of  the  City  of  Mexico.  These  statues  usually  represent 
the  great  mariner  as  of  most  distinguished  appearance  ;  lofty, 
chivalrous,  poetic. 

The  statue  to  Columbus  in  Nassau  in  the  Bahamas  is  quite 
a  different  conception.  We  find  in  it  the  sturdy  and  traditional 
English  tar.  It  is  what  Columbus  might  have  been  had  he 
been  born  an  Englishman.  As  England  herself  has  been  in 
effect  transported  to  Nassau,  New  Providence,  so  has  art  here 
been  made  to  take  on  her  type  and  expression. 

The  glory  of  the  Bahama  Sea  is  the  night.  A  sudden  hush 
falls  upon  the  purple  serenity  ;  the  sunset  flames,  and  the  day 
is  done.  The  roof  of  heaven  seems  low,  and  the  stars  come 
out  like  silver  suns. 

One  does  not  need  to  look  upward  to  see  the  stars,  but 
down.  The  heavens  are  below  as  well  as  above  ;  the  sky  is 
in  the  sea. 

The  shadowy  forms  of  pairs  of  dolphins  pass  under  the 
transparent  waters  almost  as  distinctly  as  by  day.  The  at- 
mosphere, sky  and  sea  all  blend  as  one  world. 

Amid  such  unimagined  brilliancy  and  splendor  the  soul 
becomes  a  revelation  to  herself  in  the  consciousness  of  beauty- 
worship,  and  thought  takes  wings. 

One  recalls  the  pictures  that  Columbus  gives  of  the  ex- 
pansion of  his  own  soul.  One  here  feels  a  longing  to  attain 
larger  knowledge  and  all  that  is  best  in  life,  and  wonders 
what  new  discoveries  may  await  the  spiritual  faculties  in  wider 
horizons  than  these.  Wherever  he  may  go,  the  tourist  will 
ever  return  in  memory  to  the  Sea  of  the  Great  Discovery.  It 
is  the  paradise  of  the  ocean  world  ;  the  temple  gate  of  the  West. 


H.  Butter  worth. 


Housekeeping  on  a  Desert  Island. 


It  was  once  my  lot  to  keep  house  for  a  fortnight  or  so  on  a 
desert  island  among  the  Bahamas ;  a  gentleman  having  been 
good  enough  to  place  his  vacant  house  on  one  of  the  "out 
islands  "  at  our  disposal. 

The  island  was  some  six  miles  long,  with  several  sur- 
rounding "  cays,"  as  islets  are  termed  in  those  regions,  which 
belonged  to  the  same  proprietor.  This  property  lay  some 
thirty  miles  south  of  Nassau,  the  capital  of  the  Bahamas,  and 
as  no  ships  ever  went  there  we  hired  a  steamer  to  take  us  and 
our  belongings  to  our  new  abode. 

The  belongings  were  considerable  on  the  occasion,  for  the 
house  was  unfurnished,  and  there  was  no  shop  or  store  within 
thirty  miles  of  it.  So  we  had  to  take  bedding,  tables  and 
chairs,  pots  and  pans,  eatable's  and  drinkables,  household 
necessaries  of  all  sorts,  as  well  as  three  children,  a  governess, 
three  servants,  a  goat  to  give  us  milk,  a  monkey,  a  parrot  and 
two  little  ground  doves. 

We  anchored  in  a  little  harbor  formed  by  some  sheltering 
rocks  ;  our  luggage  and  furniture  were  lowered  into  a  boat  and 
landed  in  a  heap  on  the  sandy  beach.  There  every  one 
shouldered  whatever  he  could,  and  under  a  burning  sun  we 
toiled  up  to  the  house,  which  stood  on  the  top  of  a  hill  and 
was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off. 

I  was  laden  with  part  of  a  paraffin  stove.  The  children 
insisted  on  dragging  along  the  largest  boxes  and  bundles  they 
could  find.  The  servants  and  sailors  brought  up  the  rear  with 
the  remainder  of  our  possessions. 

We  found  a  negro  and  his  family  in  charge  of  the  house. 
On  our  arrival  they  moved  into  a  hut  close  by,  and  we  pro- 
ceeded to  settle  down  for  the  night  as  best  we  could. 

The  house  was  of  good  size,  and  divided  into  rooms  by 
partitions  that  only  went  half-way  up  to  the  roof,  so  as  to  give 


HOUSEKEEPING  ON  A  DKSERT  ISLAND. 


55 


free  circulation.  It  was  thatched  with  palm-leaves,  and  had 
a  wide  veranda  running  all  around  it.  Furniture  there  was 
none  except  two  tables  and  a  bench  or  two. 

While  supper  was  preparing  we  spread  out  our  mattresses 
and  made  arrangements  for  the  night.  It  was  not  possible  to 
hang  up  mosquito  curtains  for  the  first  night,  and  indeed  we 


On  the  Beach. 

did  not  particularly  care  to  do  so,  for  we  had  been  told  that 
sand-flies  and  mosquitoes  were  unknown  on  Highbourne  Cay. 

We  were  speedily  undeceived.  Our  first  night  there  was 
an  awful  experience.  Millions  of  sand-flies  and  swarms  of 
mosquitoes  made  life  unbearable  and  night  hideous.  We  were 
all  very  tired,  but  no  one  slept  at  all.  As  everything  was 
open  our  moans  and  revilings  were  audible  to  all,  and  we 
compared  our  miseries. 


56 


HOUSEKEEPING  ON  A  DESERT  ISLAND. 


Finally  I  got  up  and,  wearied  and  woebegone,  wandered 
up  and  down  the  veranda,  longing  for  day  and  wondering  if 
life  on  a  desert  island  were  worth  living.  At  last  the  welcome 
dawn  restored  us  to  cheerfulness. 

Instead  of  the  ordinary  tub  in  one's  bedroom,  a  dip  in  the 
warm,  clear,  blue  sea  was  delicious  of  a  morning.  As  we  had 
the  island  to  ourselves,  we  donned  our  bathing-dresses  in  the 
house  and  walked  down  in  them  to  the  shore,  a  large  palm- 
leaf  doing  duty  as  a  sunshade. 

The  path  to  the  beach  lay  through  the  bush.  Most  of 
the  shrubs  were  in  flower,  and  waxy-white  blossoms  of  an 
unknown  species  filled  the  air  with  a  delicious  scent.  Near  to 
the  strand  great  trails  of  snow-white  passion-flowers  stretched 
out  their  graceful  length,  and  masses  of  orchids  with  sprays 
four  or  five  feet  high,  of  old-gold,  purple  and  brown  flowers 
swung  gently  to  and  fro  in  the  breeze. 

When  we  lay  down  on  the  coral  sand,  soft  as  satin,  the 
tiny  waves  rippling  gently  over  us,  while  little  silvery  fishes 
swam  lazily  around,  the  miseries  of  the  past  night  were  for- 
gotten, and  it  seemed  as  though  the  world  could  offer  nothing 
more  delightful  than  existence  on  a  desert  island. 

Our  breakfast,  if  in  the  orthodox  style  in  such  places, 
ought  to  have  consisted  of  turtles'  eggs,  breadfruit  and 
cocoanut  milk  ;  but  the  island  afforded  none  of  those  dainties, 
and  we  had  to  content  ourselves  with  eggs  supplied  by  the 
caretaker's  hens  and  the  contents  of  mundane  tins  from 
cooperative  stores. 

The  only  incident  of  an  unusual  nature  connected  with  the 
meal  was  that  my  little  girl,  while  milking  the  goat,  was 
observed  to  have  a  large  centipede  taking  its  morning  stroll 
over  her  hair.  The  creature  was  knocked  off  and  killed  by 
the  trusty  negro  caretaker  before  it  did  any  mischief. 

We  had  sent  down  a  small  sailing-boat  from  Nassau,  so  as 
to  be  able  to  communicate  with  civilization  if  necessary.  The 
sailor  belonging  to  it  acted  as  our  cook. 

After  the  experience  of  our  first  night  we  took  precautions 
against  our  tormentors,  and  afterward  slept  in  comparative 


HOUSEKEEPING  ON  A  DESERT  ISLAND. 


57 


peace.  Large  fires  were  lighted  around  the  house.  All  doors 
and  windows  were  tightly  closed  before  sunset,  and  not  opened 
till  the  moon  was  well  up,  when  we  crept  under  the  mosquito 
nets  and  set  our  winged  foes  at  defiance. 

We  still  had  midnight  visitors,  but  of  a  more  agreeable 
kind.  Large  fire-beetles  flew  in  at  the  unglazed  windows, 
lighting  up  the  rooms  with  living  fairy-lights.    Small  birds 


erally  found  in  sheds  and  the  roofs  of  houses.  They  are 
harmless,  useful,  and  are  easily  tamed,  becoming  full  of 
confidence  when  unmolested. 

After  some  days  our  meals  of  poultry  and  tinned  meats 
became  monotonous  ;  and  hearing  that  iguanas  were  found  on 
a  neighboring  cay,  my  husband  sailed  over  to  procure  some. 
The  iguana  is  a  lizard  which  feeds  on  fruits  and  vegetables. 
It  grows  to  three  or  four  feet  in  length,  and  its  flesh  is  con- 
sidered delicate  eating. 

The  cay  where  creatures  of  this  sort  were  found  was  flat 
and  rocky,  and  the  iguanas  had  their  strongholds  in  the 
numerous  fissures  and  cracks.  Long  search  had  not  been 
made  before  an  iguana  was  seen  to  retreat  into  a  cavity.  A 


twittered  on  the 
rafters ;  little  crabs 
rattled  gaily  over 
the  floor  ;  friendly 
geckoes  croaked 
from  the  roof,  or 
busied  themselves 
with  an  attack  on 
the  winged  pests. 


Geckoes  are  liz- 


ards six  or  seven 
inches  long,  of  a 
pale  yellowish  col- 
or, mottled  with 
brown,  with  rings 
of  brown  on  the 
tail.  They  are  gen- 


58 


HOUSEKEEPING  ON  A  DESERT  ISLAND. 


fire  was  lighted  at  the  entrance  to  smoke  him  out.  When  the 
poor  animal  could  stand  the  smoke  no  longer,  a  scurry  was 
heard  and  out  he  rushed  through  the  smoldering  embers,  only 
to  be  shot. 

As  soon  as  a  sufficient  number  had  been  taken  to  supply 
our  present  needs,  one  was  secured  alive  and  brought  back  to 
me.  It  was  about  two  feet  long  —  a' thick,  heavy,  blackish 
lizard  with  a  crest  down  the  back  of  his  neck.  We  put  a  cord 
round  his  body  and  tied  him  to  a  tree  near  the  veranda.  If 
one  went  near  him  he  snapped  viciously  and  sometimes  ran  at 
one  and  seized  anything  on  which  he  could  lay  hold  in  his 
mouth,  just  like  a  wicked  dog. 

His  companions,  whom  we  tried  in  the  form  of  a  pie,  had 
delicate  white  flesh  resembling  chicken  or  veal. 

When  the  stock  of  vegetables  which  we  brought  with  us 
was  exhausted,  the  caretaker  produced  another  edible  novelty 
in  the  shape  of  a  head  of  "mountain  cabbage."  This  is 
supplied  by  a  palm-tree,  a  portion  of  the  trunk  of  which  is 
edible.  These  palms  grow  abundantly  on  Highbourne  and  the 
neighboring  cays.  Wild  hogs,  numerous  on  some  of  the 
latter,  lived  almost  solely  on  these  palms,  tearing  down  the 
smaller  trees  and  ripping  them  open  with  their  tusks  to  get  at 
the  succulent  heart. 

The  cabbage  palm  brought  on  this  occasion  to  us  was  not 
a  good  specimen.  When  cooked  it  looked  like  huge  and  very 
stringy  sugar-cane,  and  tasted  like  succulent  wood. 

I  have  often  since  eaten  mountain  cabbage.  When  of  the 
proper  kind  it  is  extremely  good.  Eaten  raw  it  has  a  nutty 
flavor,  and  makes  an  excellent  salad.  When  cooked  it  looks 
rather  like  very  white  cabbage,  but  the  flavor  is  much  finer 
and  more  delicate. 

Sometimes  we  went  out  fishing  for  our  dinner,  or  collected 
great  pink  conch-shells  in  the  shallow  water  by  the  shore. 
The  fish  in  them  made  a  capital  soup. 

Our  days  glided  by  in  delightful  monotony.  All  our  meals 
were  served  on  the  veranda,  and  there  we  spent  the  heat  of 
the  day,  busy  at  our  various  occupations. 


HOUSKKKKPING  ON  A  DKSKRT  ISLAND. 


59 


To  the  full  we  tasted  on  our  desert  island  that  pleasure 
unknown  to  dwellers  in  cities,  and  rarely  experienced  in 
northern  climes  —  the  pleasure  of  mere  existence. 

Hammocks  hung  from  the  beams,  and  a  swing  in  one  was 
very  agreeable.  The  view  all  around  was  charming..  An 
undulating  foreground  of  thick  bush,  composed  of  silver 
palmettos  ;  lignum  vitse  covered  with  bunches  of  azure  flowers  ; 
seven-year  apples  with  star-like  white  blossoms  having  a 
delicious  fragrance,  and  trees  and  shrubs  innumerable,  of 
unknown  names  and  beautiful  foliage  —  sloped  down  to  a 
turquoise  sea  stretching  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  dotted 
with  little  gray  and  green  islands. 

Between  the  bush  and  the  sea  lay  a  band  of  coral  beach, 
shimmering  in  the  sunshine  like  a  broad  silken  ribbon  ;  in  the 
foreground  grew  some  fine  "wild  rose  apples,"  as  they  are 
locally  termed  ;  their  botanical  name  I  have  forgotten.  The 
foliage  is  very  dark  green,  and  the  branches  bear  clusters  of 
brilliant  scarlet  flowers.  On  the  backs  of  the  large,  leathery 
leaves  beautiful  little  iridescent  green  and  blue  beetles  make 
their  home. 

The  wing-cases  of  these  beetles  are  clear  and  like  glass, 
the  beautiful  colors  showing  through  the  glassy  substance, 
but  disappearing  on  the  death  of  the  insect. 

The  air  was  full  of  perfume,  the  eye  feasted  with  har- 
monious forms  and  glowing  colors,  the  body  refreshed  by  cool 
yet  balmy  breezes  ;  and  we  drank  in  health  and  strength  from 
an  open-air  life,  unhampered  by  conventionalities  and  unem- 
bittered  by  the  struggle  for  existence. 


I^ADY  BLAKE. 


A  Trip  to  Santo  Domingo. 


Would  you  like  to  get  on  board  a  steamship  for  a  voyage 
to  the  island  of  Santo  Domingo  ?  It  may  be  only  a  dream 
steamship  to  you,  but  it  is  the  image  of  one  in  which  I  did 
make  that  voyage,  some  time  ago. 

L,et  us  suppose  that  I  have  you  all  on  board,  the  anchor 
weighed,  and  the  harbor  of  New  York  fading  in  the  distance. 

Your  first  hour  on  board  will  probably  be  passed  in  putting 
your  books  and  clothes  into  something  like  order.  While  you 
are  about  this,  dinner  will  be  announced,  but  if  the  wind 
happens  to  be  ahead,  the  rolling  and  pitching  of  the  vessel 
may  make  you  think  of  something  very  different,  viz.,  your 
bed,  and  how  to  get  into  it.  You  try  to  do  this,  and  every- 
thing seems  to  be  against  you. 

Your  books  come  tumbling  down  from  the  upper  berth, 
in  which  you  had  laid  them.  Your  travelling  bag  rolls  over 
upon  your  feet  and  hurts  them.  Your  portable  inkstand, 
which  you  imprudently  got  out  in  order  to  write  down  your 
last  impressions  of  New  York,  falls  out  of  the  rack  into  the 
wash-basin,  and  sprinkles  the  premises  with  ink. 

You  feel  very  ill,  and  it  makes  you  worse  to  hear  the  vessel 
strain  in  the  sea,  with  doleful  noises,  as  if  her  wooden  sides 
were  in  pain. 

At  last,  with  the  help  of  steward  or  stewardess,  you  are 
properly  undressed,  and  your  dizzy  head  is  glad  to  rest  upon 
a  hard,  rather  damp  pillow. 

Rock,  rock,  rock.  If  you  are  not  very  ill,  the  motion  soon 
lulls  you  to  sleep,  and  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  you  only 
hear  the  boatswain's  whistle,  piping,  shrill  and  sweet,  and 
the  heavy  steps  of  the  sailors  who  come  up  on  deck  and  go 
below  when  the  watch  is  changed. 

But  we  will  suppose  that  these  rough  days  are  past,  and 
that  our  ship  is  now  carried  smoothly  over  the  tropical  sea  by 


A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO. 


61 


a  favorable  wind.  The  seasick  folk  are  all  up  and  dressed, 
though  not  in  their  best  clothes.  They  begin  to  laugh  at  their 
late  misfortunes. 

How  bright  the  sky  is,  and  how  warm  is  the  sunshine  ! 
The  thought  of  dinner  becomes  a  pleasant  one,  as  the  sea  air 
gives  the  recovered  patients  a  keen  appetite. 

If  you  look  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  you  will  see 
quantities  of  gulfweed,  yellow  sprays  that  look  almost  golden 
in  the  blue  water.  You  may  fish  for  this,  if  you  will,  with  a 
long  string  and  a  large  pin  bent  to  serve  as  a  hook. 

When  you  have  caught  a  bit  of  it,  and  have  drawn  it  on 
board,  you  will  find  it  a  coarse,  common  seaweed,  not  worth 
preserving. 

You  will  see  here  and  there,  too,  the  Portuguese  man-of- 
war.  This  is  a  shell-fish  called  a  nautilus,  which  looks  as 
if  it  carried  a  tiny  sail  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 

Shoals  of  flying-fish  dart  out  of  the  sea,  and  fall  back  into 
it.  If  a  few  should  be  caught  on  deck,  they  will  be  found 
very  nice  when  fried. 

Meantime  the  weather  grows  very  warm.  It  is  perhaps 
only  four  days  since  you  came  on  board  wrapped  in  your 
winter  furs  and  wadded  coat.  Now  you  find  summer  clothing 
very  comfortable,  and  a  broad  shade  hat  indispensable,  for 
the  glare  of  the  light  upon  the  water  is  very  trying  to  the  eyes. 

At  sunset  you  see  such  wonderful  clouds  of  every  shape  ! 
There  is  one  which  looks  like  a  party  of  ladies  with  queer 
bonnets,  which  melt  and  change  as  fashions  really  do.  There 
is  a  lion  galloping  after  a  dog.  Now  the  dog  changes  to  a 
lizard,  and  the  lion  to  a  whale.  There  is  a  group  of  fiery, 
untamed  horses,  which  presently  take  the  shape  of  a  monstrous 
giant,  who  loses  his  head,  and  in  turn  melts  into  something 
else  equally  strange  and  unsubstantial. 

As  night  comes  on,  the  sky  seems  to  turn  into  black  velvet, 
studded  with  diamond  stars.  You  can  stay  on  deck  until 
bedtime  without  danger,  and  when  you  bid  your  friends 
good-night,  even  the  voices  of  dear  ones  sound  sweeter  in  the 
soft,  tropical  air  than  elsewhere. 


62  A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO. 

On  one  of  these  nights  you  pass  a  distant  light  which  looks 
almost  like  a  star  very  near  its  setting.  They  tell  you  that 
this  is  Turk's  Island  light,  and  your  heart  is  cheered  by  the 
sight  of  something  that  is  really  on  land. 


thing  has  caused  new  excitement  and  activity  on  board  the 
steamer.    Then  comes  a  knock  at  your  door,  and  the  cry  : — 

' '  Porto  Plata  is  in  sight !  Come  out  and  have  a  look  at 
Mount  Isabel !  " 


A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO. 


63 


You  run  out,  wondering  if  this  can  be  true,  and  are 
astonished  to  see  the  lofty  mountain,  rising  sharp  and  sheer 
against  the  cloudless  sky.  At  its  base  lies  the  pretty,  thriving 
little  town  whose  name  you  have  just  heard. 

The  ship  is  just  steaming  into  the  harbor.  Presently  she 
comes  to  anchor  in  the  roadstead.  Boats  rowed  by  negroes 
come  alongside,  and  the  health  and  customs  officers  come  on 
board. 

There  is  much  shaking  of  hands  and  chattering  in  Spanish 
and  in  English.  You  walk  carefully  down  the  companion- 
way,  and  the  boats  soon  land  you  at  the  long  wooden 
causeway,  which  in  turn  soon  brings  you  to  "  terra  firma." 
No  matter  how  well  you  may  like  the  sea,  it  is  a  great  pleasure 
to  find  yourself  on  land  again. 

The  steamer  stays  but  one  day  at  Porto  Plata,  but  this 
gives  you  time  to  see  much  that  is  new  and  amusing.  In  the 
first  place,  you  will  look  at  the  little  carts,  drawn  each  by  one 
bullock,  which  are  driven  down  into  the  shallow  water  to 
receive  the  goods  brought  from  the  steamer  in  large  boats 
called  lighters. 

Then  you  will  like  to  walk  through  the  streets  and  to  look 
at  the  shops,  which  display  many  curious  things. 

Among  other  commodities,  the  fruits  of  the  country  will 
interest  you.  Passing  by  the  market,  you  will  see  heaps  of 
golden  oranges,  which  are  offered  you  by  the  thousand. 
Bananas  are  sold  in  huge  bunches.  You  can  buy  one  of 
these  bunches  for  twenty-five  cents.  It  would  cost  you  five 
dollars  in  New  York  or  Boston.  Then  there  are  sapodillas, 
with  russet  skin  and  orange  pulp  surrounding  a  large  polished 
stone  ;  and  arimoyas,  purple  in  color  and  full  of  milky  juice  ; 
and  sour-sop,  or  guanabana,  of  which  the  juice  only  is  used. 
This  latter  fruit  looks  like  a  soft,  green  pine-apple.  Its  flavor 
resembles  a  combination  of  pine-apple  and  strawberry.  You 
can  squeeze  it  to  obtain  juice,  but  if  you  attempt  to  bite  into 
it,  you  will  find  nothing  but  a  tough  fibre,  which  is  quite 
uneatable. 

In  these  warm  climates,  people  usually  rise  very  early  and 


64 


A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO. 


take  a  long  nap  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  So  you  will  find 
that  the  little  town  seems  to  go  to  sleep  between  twelve  and 
one  o'clock  and  to  remain  very  quiet  for  about  three  hours. 
You  will  feel  drowsiness  stealing  over  you,  and  will  do  well 
to  follow  the  general  custom  and  to  take  what  is  called  a 
"  siesta."  You  can  do  this  best  at  the  hotel,  a  bare  and  barn- 
like building,  in  whose  upper  story  you  will  easily  find  a 
cot-bed  with  a  mosquito-netting  hung  over  it.  There  are  no 
glass  windows  here,  or  anywhere  else  in  the  tropics,  but  the 
stout  wooden  shutters  will  make  the  room  dark  enough. 

It  may  be  nearly  four  o'clock  when  you  wake  from  your 
slumber,  and  find  the  town  waking  up,  too.  A  fresh  breeze 
now  blows  from  the  sea,  and  the  atmosphere  is  comfortably 
cool.  The  horses'  hoofs  rattle  on  the  pavement,  and  if  you 
look  out  you  will  see  the  pretty  little  animals  going  along  very 
swiftly,  and  so  smoothly  that  their  riders  are  scarcely  stirred 
in  the  saddle. 

If  you  walk  a  little  out  of  the  town,  you  will  find  plenty  of 
ferns  and  wild  flowers,  and  you  will  see  numbers  of  curious 
yellow  land-crabs  crawling  about  on  the  road. 

But  at  nightfall  you  will  be  warned  to  go  on  board  your 
steamer.  Returning,  and  clambering  up  the  sides,  you  may 
find  the  sailors  amusing  themselves  by  throwing  bits  of  pork 
to  the  sharks,  whose  ugly  pinkish  heads  are  every  now  and 
then  thrust  up  out  of  the  water,  expecting  a  choice  morsel. 
You  now  understand  why  it  is  better  to  be  on  board  before 
dark,  as  the  boat  which  brings  you  might  upset,  in  which 
case  these  sea-monsters  would  be  very  ready  to  make  a  hasty 
meal,  without  distinction  of  persons. 

In  the  early,  early  morning,  while  you  are  still  sleeping 
soundly,  the  anchor  is  weighed  and  the  steamer  starts  for 
Samana,  which  will  be  our  next  stopping-place. 


Julia  Ward  Howe. 


THE  COMPANION  SERIES 

Preserves  in  permanent  form  some  of  the  most  valuable  and  interesting 
articles  of  the  eminent  authors  who  have  written  for  The  Youth's 
Companion.  These  Books  are  appropriate  for  Libraries,  both  private  and 
public,  and  for  use  in  Schools. 

Each  volume  contains  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  pages,  is  illustrated 
by  The  Companion's  best  Artists,  is  bound  in  strong  linen,  and  contains 
four  volumes  of  The  Companion  Library  described  on  the  inside  cover  at 
the  beginning  of  this  book.   The  Series  comprises  the  following  volumes: 

By  I^and  and  Sea.    A  Book  of  Travel  and  Research. 

Containing  The  Companion  Library  Nos.  2,  3,  4  and  5. 

Talks  About  Animals.    A  Book  of  Natural  History. 

Containing  The  Companion  Library  Nos.  6,  7,  8  and  9. 

Our  Country :  West.  The  Newer  Portions  of  the  United  States. 
Containing  The  Companion  Library  Nos.  10,  11,  12  and  13. 

Our  Country  :  East.  The  Earliest-Settled  Regions  of  America. 
Containing  The  Companion  Library  Nos.  14,  15,  16  and  17. 

Price  50  Cents  Each,  Sent  Prepaid. 


PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
201  Columbus  Avenue.  BOSTON,  MASS. 


The  Youth's  Companion 

© 

is  an  Illustrated  Family  Paper.  It  is  published  weekly. 
Its  illustrations  are  by  the  best  artists. 

Its  stories  represent  real  life  and  aim  to  interest 
readers  of  all  ages.  They  are  stimulating,  healthful  and 
helpful,  but  never  sensational.  Their  great  number,  and 
variety,  together  with  their  marked  excellence,  give  The 
Companion  acknowledged  preeminence  among  literary 
publications. 

Its  miscellaneous  articles  are  read  by  young  and 
old  with  equal  eagerness.  Its  letters  of  travel  present 
the  picturesque  features  of  foreign  life.  Its  articles  on 
health  and  etiquette  are  of  real  practical  value. 

V 

No  man  or  woman,  however  intelligent,  can  fail  to 
find  in  its  editorials  upon  current  topics  facts  that  are 
not  ordinarily  found  in  other  papers,  and  that  it  is  a 
pleasure  and  a  benefit  to  know.  Young  people,  especially, 
should  possess  the  information  they  give. 

Its  biographical  and  historical  articles  are 

very  valuable  to  those  who  appreciate  the  elements  of 
progress.  Successful  men  and  women  in  many  branches 
of  business  and  professional  life  give  their  experiences 
to  the  readers  of  The  Companion. 

The  paper  aims  both  to  entertain  and  to  instruct. 
Not  a  sentence  to  which  the  most  careful  parent  would 
object  is  allowed  to  appear  in  its  columns.  It  seeks  to 
become  a  family  friend,  bringing  help  and  cheer  to  every 
member  of  the  household,  and  to  influence  directly  the 
conduct  and  issues  of  daily  life. 


